Pecking Order
by OptimisticEmotion
Summary: Reverse Robin AU. Set of stories where Damian was first and Dick is the youngest. Tim is the unhinged brother and Jason's the nerd! Yet, they're the same Batboys that we love.
1. Bonding With Homework

**A/N:** Hello, so I've always wanted to start my own version of a few AU's as well as a nonlinear story that doesn't rise and drop unexpectedly with cliff hangers. I am still working on Half Truths, but this just came into my head.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick-11 Jason-16 Tim-18 Damian-24

* * *

Dick glared at his English homework as if it was a personal insult to his heritage. He didn't know how the heck he was suppose to 'diagram a sentence'! As far as he was concerned sentences were for speaking, listening to, or reading. You want to diagram something then go to math or science! But despite his personal beliefs and very strong opinions on the matter, he still had to finish his homework. Grumbling under his breath Dick slammed his head to his desk.

"Whoa there, Dickie, you don't want to rattle your brains too hard," Dick's older brother Jason called from his doorway. That's right! Jason! He loved to read, and if Dick remembered right, he said that English Lit was his favorite subject in school!

"Jason! I need help!" Dick cried out, looking to the book buff of the family.

"Want me to get Damian for you?" Jason offered. Dick thought about their eldest brother. He and Damian were getting along better these days, in fact, everyone in the family swore Dami favored him. But he still felt that he had a long way to go before he was at 'ask the eldest for help' stage in their relationship just yet.

"No, it's English anyway so you're probably a better person to ask." Jason's brow shot up at that statement before he eased into a smug, proud stance, it wasn't often that he was the best fit when it came to helping with homework.

"Alright, Baby Bro, what do you need help with?" Jason asked as he waked in with a swagger. He sat at the end of Dick's bed as he faced the boy sitting at the desk.

"I can't figure out how to diagram a sentence," Dick pouted and showed the paper to the teen. Jason looked shocked and then confused before taking the page and looking it over.

"What the hell kinda of crap are they teaching you kids now a days?" Jason asked in disgust as he tried to make sense of the piece of paper in his hands

"So you never had to do this?" Dick asked incredulously.

"Well, in my defense I was still on the street until I was fourteen and since I read at a college grade level and tested well they just put me with the other fourteen year old's in ninth. You're still in sixth grade, aren't you?" Jason reasoned. Dick sighed and glared at the paper. If only he could have just skipped over third through sixth grade!

"So you can't help me?" Dick asked with a glower as he took his paper back from Jason. His older brother looked at the floor in shame before he suddenly looked back up at the paper with a glare of his own.

"Well, let's work on it together and see if we can figure it out!" Jason decided and moved to sit on his knees by Dick at the desk. The two worked to try and decode the homework for the next hour or so, neither quite figuring it out. At some point they seemed to have attracted an audience as they heard a sharp clearing of a throat from the door way. Both boys looked up to see Damian balancing a tray with one hand, on it two mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

"Pennyworth suggested I feed you cretins." The bite in Damian's words had long since lost its sting, and according to Tim, neither of the younger brothers ever got to feel it at it's full force. Either way, if it wasn't for the fact that Damian seemed in a moderately good mood, Dick might have actually taken him seriously and felt hurt. Jason just laughed him off.

"Hey, thanks Dam! By the way, think you could help us with something? This was before my time in the educational pin and Dick's not having much better luck with it." As Jason spoke, he also moved to relieve Damian of the full tray. That's when he saw that while one mug was full of milk, for Dick, the other was full of Earl Gray, for him. God Bless Alfred! Damian's attention, however, was already on the paper that Dick held in his hands. The look on Damian's face made both of the younger brother's flinch. The eldest of Bruce's sons was glaring with a full rage that had Jason about to take back asking for help.

"Of course, this. I remember this." The way Damian spoke it was almost as if he were having flashbacks of fighting a terrible villain. Then again, it was Gotham, who knows what kind of crazies their were when Bruce had just started going out as Batman?

"So you know how to do it?" Dick asked hopefully.

"No." Damian's voice was full of venom and disdain, "But I will not allow it to concur me a second time!" The young man then took Jason's old spot next to Dick and began going over the instructions and trying to apply them logically to the problems. Jason and Dick shared a look and shrugged. They started on their dinner while they silently worked on the homework next to their eldest brother.

"May I ask what has all three of you so captivated?" Bruce's voice asked from the door way. Dick had to wonder if maybe he should just close it, but he really did need help with his homework and his two older brother's weren't being much of an aid. They were just too stumped themselves and too stubborn to just give up.

"Bruce do you know how to diagram a sentence?" Dick asked. Jason and Damian looked up to their father as the man seemed to contemplate the question.

"Honestly I don't really remember how. It never really came up after grade school," Bruce confessed. "But I know someone who once told me he found it fun." Damian's eyes narrowed.

"I don't think that he'll appreciate being called just to help with Richard's school work," the eldest started to argue.

"Nonsense," Bruce waved him off as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Wait, you're not about to call who I think you're about to call, are you?" Jason asked excitedly.

"Who?" Dick asked, he had lived with this family for three years now and still felt lost a lot of the time.

"Timmy!" Jason called back at him.

"I'll be right back," Bruce said as he began back down the hall, phone held to his ear. Damian snatched the paper off the desk and got comfortable on the bed. Jason and Dick both shared a knowing look. Damian always hated it when he lost to Tim. The eldest two were merciless to each other as they fought in a war that no one quite understood.

As amusing as it was to watch Damian try harder to figure out the secret to the sixth grade homework, Dick couldn't help but feel nervous. While he didn't really feel comfortable asking Damian for help on his homework, he really didn't feel comfortable about even thinking about talking to Tim. It wasn't that he didn't like Tim, nor that he worried that Tim didn't like him. It was just that in all the years Dick had lived in the manor, he had only ever seen Tim Drake-Wayne in person and out of costume twice. Dick knew the stories and he could see the evidence all over the older boy. Tim was broken in so many ways and just slightly unhinged. He and Jason were thick as thieves of course, but there was something about Tim, something that unsettled Dick.

"Right in here." Bruce's voice alerted Dick that he had spaced out and now Tim was about to see his very messy room. Dick about jumped up and started cleaning but it was too late.

"So where's the infernal homework?" Tim joked as he strode into the room his eyes scanning the layout as he did so.

"Dami's got it," Jason informed him with a jab of his thumb in the eldest's direction. Tim's eyes landed on Damian and his right eye twitched a little.

"If you would kindly," Tim's voice sounded strained as he reached for the piece of paper. Damian's upper lip snarled as he handed it over. Again, always with this two. Jason shook his head and smirked at Dick, who just gave a shaky nod back to him.

"Alright Dick, I suppose as this is _your_ homework, and _you're_ the one that will be tested on this, why don't you and I go over this _alone_ and _without audience_?" Tim asked giving the others a pointed look.

"Awe, but I wanna see how's it done!" Jason whined, slipping back into the street accent that only Tim ever found endearing.

"Later," Tim promised with a ruffling of Jay's hair before the friendly hand moved to the back of Jason's head and shoved him forcibly out the door. It would almost seem a malevolent action if it wasn't for Jason's laughter. Slowly and while glaring at the second oldest the entire time, Damian stalked out of the bed room and down the hall. Dick wondered if he too wanted to sit in on the lesson, and kind of wished he would. Tim sent Bruce away and closed the door, leaving Dick alone with his second eldest brother for the first time since he joined the family. Well, the first time ever. His insides were crawling and he bit his lip.

"Alright, Dick, let's get started."

* * *

Damian found Jason in the library, which was the obvious place to find the third child if one was ever looking. Damian had to admit that even though he always found Jason to be coarse, inappropriate, and petulant, he did approve of the younger boy's more scholastic habits. He frowned when he saw that Jason was reading one of the more modern pieces of trash instead of one of the classic reads in the room, but as Jason seemed to be willing to read just about anything and still held a favorite of Shakespeare, Damian kept his opinion to himself, something he wished he did more often when he first met Tim.

"When do you think they'll be done?" Jason grumbled.

"Excuse me?" Damian asked with a lift of his brow.

"Don't act like you didn't come in here to kill time until Tim finished with Dick. You wanna know the secret to that stupid diagraming thing as much as I do! So, when do you think they'll be done?" Damian huffed and walked over to the shelf. He scanned the books until he found the thickest one, an old autobiography of some general or something, and pulled it off the shelf.

"I suspect long enough for this to be read," He muttered back as he held the book up for Jason's view. Jason snickered, shook his head, and went back to reading 'Mocking Jay'. Damian sighed to himself as he allowed himself a small smile and looked at the book in his hands. He contemplated actually giving it an attempt before he decided he really had better things he could be doing and put it back on the shelf. The excited sound of Dick shouting echoed from the youngest boy's bedroom and the two brothers glanced at each other before they took of down the hall.

When they got to Dick's door, Damian stopped Jason just before the younger broke the door down, and they could hear laughing. Dick was laughing and whooping and cheering. Loudly. He wasn't in danger like they thought and Damian breathed a sigh of relief. Tim didn't do anything stupid, thank the heavens. After giving Dick some time for his celebration, Damian finally let Jason go and opened the door. Dick is still in the middle of jumping up and down at his desk while Tim was saving pages from flying off the desk top, large grin on his face.

"Hey, Damian! Check this out, it's actually really easy! Look!" Dick raced over to his other two older brothers and started in on a long winded explanation of how the problems would be solved. Jason was staring at him barely managing to keep up with the youngest boy's words never mind keeping up with his thoughts. Damian, on the other hand, had his attention caught by Timothy, who was staring sadly at Dick and Jason, before his green eyes then met Damian's and the sadness turned to resentment and the second oldest of the sons finished organizing the papers and stood to leave.

"Thank you for helping Richard with his homework," Damian muttered. See! He was trying dammit!

"I know what you were thinking when you heard him screaming," Tim uttered back darkly. "It's smart to keep on your toes but don't insult me by pretending you trust me." With that, Tim brushed past Damian out of the bedroom. Damian only followed him with a glare but Jason was a bit more adamant.

"Timmy! You're not leaving already are you?" Jason called, his voice the picture of distress. Dick and Damian had to share a look. Just last night Jason had been out as Nightling but had been caught by a giant vine and held as a hostage while Poison Ivy threatened Batman with feeding his side kick to a venomous Venus fly trap that looked more like an Acid Monster than an actual plant. Even then, Jason wasn't nearly as distressed as he was with Tim leaving so soon.

"I have to go Jason, or I might attempt at you life," Tim 'explained' and Dick had never been able to tell if he was joking whenever he said stuff like that or if he was honest. Jason was the only one who didn't seem to take Tim seriously during these talks.

"Aw, okay. I'll see you around then?" Jason asked, dejectedly. Tim just smiled and ruffled Jason's hair again, the same way he did when he first arrived.

"It's a promise." And like that, Tim was gone. Dick could hear the front door and he sighed as he moved to go back to his room. Just as he turned he could have sworn he caught Damian looking remorseful before catching Dick's eye and shifting to something more stoic. Dick had to wonder what that was about before he went back to his room. After he finished putting all his homework back in his backpack and gathering the dinner dishes, Dick made his way down stairs. He put the dishes in the kitchen and then went down to the cave to get ready for patrol.

Tonight, Robin was going to be teamed up with Batman while Nightling and Shadowbat took the east side. And, Dick supposed as he thought about it, Red Hood would be in the Bowery, keeping the bad guys there terrified and on the straight and narrow with his own, eclectic, brand of justice,. . .

* * *

 **A/N:** So I have been playing around with the ages of the bat kids for a while trying to make it work and the way I finally managed it was Damian was born when Bruce was 17, he then retired when he himself was 18 and B was 35. Tim then comes along at 12, then let's say something HAPPENS when he's 16 that leads Jason to fill in as Nightling at the age of 14, while Damian is 22 and B is 39. Dick at 9 joins the family less than a year later.

I hope to dive farther into this with you guys and see what happens, but this is my nonlinear story so that I can also work on my chapter stories and it not stop people on an unfinished cliff hanger.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Cool Story, Brah'. I'll accept it.)


	2. Rabid Teacher's Pet

**A/N:** Alright, I have a few chapters pre-planed. This one took me four days to write, but that's more to say it took me three hours because I only get an hour to use the library computer's before I have to recheck it out and I might as well go home and do adult things by that point.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason-14 Damian-22

* * *

Chapter Two: The Rabid Teacher's Pet

Damian drove up to Wayne Manor on his bike, stopping in front of the front door. He only paused in his brooding gaze to remove his helmet. The last time he had actually set foot in Wayne Manor was when Timothy, . . . Damian shook his head. He wasn't here to relive the past. He was here to make certain that it didn't repeat itself. So steeling himself over and stomping his nerves deep down in his gut, Damian Wayne abandoned his bike and made his way to the door. He actually had to pause when his first instinct was to knock. It was a passive aggressive habit he had picked up during his and his father's more, ... abrasive part of their relationship. It wasn't to say that things were easy now between them, but it was progress. Slow, and unsteady, but progress non-the less. However, with how fragile everything had been between the two, Damian knew that just by knocking like he still didn't think of the manor as home anymore would be sufficient enough to destroy a good portion of that progress. Instead, Damian pulled out the key card Alfred had sent him when they updated the security systems and let himself in.

Already Damian could feel there was a difference between the last time he had been in the home and this one. For the most part, it no longer felt as depressing. Just with his first sweeping glance, Damian could see things had been moved around, a second glance showed him that it was all the more valuable, more fragile, items had been moved to either higher places or out of inconvenient areas all together, and a third glace at all the new dings in the wall gave him a good idea why. He pointedly chose to ignore specific pictures that had been removed from the main entry way as Damian continued on his mission.

There was a sent of Pennyworth's cookies wafting from the kitchen, and therefore, that was the direction Damian chose to go. Hopefully the butler would be of aid in his quest. With the thought in mind, Damian entered the room to see Alfred Pennyworth scrubbing at a mixing bowl while dinner simmered on the stove top and dessert baked in the oven. The old man's apron made Damian smile, just a little, as it called upon the memory of having bought it for the man his second Christmas in his father's home. Pennyworth finally paused his scrubbing to give Damian a knowing look and a smile before he moved to dry off his hands.

"Welcome home, Master Damian, I assume you will be joining us for dinner?" The Englishman asked as he moved to pull a mug from the cupboard, placing it on the counter.

"I believe I will today, thank you Pennyworth." Damian had since learned to see the butler in a grandfatherly light that his one actual grandfather could never shine against, but a part of that bond came from the understanding that it never needed to be addressed.

"Very good. Now if you'd be so kind as to take this tea up to Master Jason, I shall see to it that dinner will be ready in another half hour." The tricky butler poured boiling water from a kettle on one of the back burners into the mug before he pulled out a small mesh ball that was no doubt packed with tea leaves.

"So, you already know why I'm here," Damian sighed to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." Pennyworth didn't respond as he wrapped the chain on the mesh ball around the handle of the mug and handed it to Damian.

"I warn, he maybe in a bit of a sour mood," Pennyworth informed him, "Master Jason has been grounded once he returned home from school today."

Well, wasn't that just great? Damian carefully made his way up the stairs to the second floor as he analysed the set back. This was going to be the first time he met his second little brother and already he was working against obstacles. He couldn't help that he was now curious at how the kid managed to get grounded. As far as Damian knew the new Nightling had only been in his father's care for three weeks now, what mischief could his youngest sibling already get into? The thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind as he deduced, via the only closed door, which one was now Jason's room and knocked.

"Go away and leave me to die in peace!" Now wasn't that an interesting response. Damian just knocked again. "I mean it Bruce, I don't want to talk to you!"

"Then it's a good thing I'm not my father," Damian called out. There was a pause and the a rustling before foot steps made their way to the door. When the door opened a young boy with hazel blue eyes glared up at him. Damian was almost taken aback at how the boy resembled his father, but then again it seemed to be a quality that Gotham breed. One day of people watching on the street would prove that it was more common to find dark hair and light eyes in the city than any other coloration.

"Who are you? You look like a younger, tanner Bruce." Damian's brow twitched but he reminded himself that he could not afford to alienate this boy so early on in their relationship. Especially if they are to be brothers.

"My name is Damian, I'm Bruce Wayne's Tru-," Damian stopped and corrected himself, "eldest child. Pennyworth sent me with an offering." The young man held the mug up for the younger boy but was met with a suspicious gaze. Damian rolled his eyes before taking a sip of the tea and looking the boy in the eye with a cocked eye brow. Jason waited a beat before he accepted the mug of tea from Damian's hands and opened the door the rest of the way as a show of inviting him inside.

"Damian Wayne, huh? Yeah, Bruce and Alfie mentioned ya couple o' times. You're Shadowbat, ain't ya?" Jason called over his shoulder as he moved to his desk to the side of the room. Damian stopped short just past the door frame when he saw the mess Jason had made. Under the desk was lined with all of Jason's pillows as well as his thick comforter, and the desk chair had been up turned with the fitted sheet stretched over the wheels, spread to then cover the whole of the desk as if that was what the elastic corners were made to do. The non-fitted bed sheet was thrown over it length wise to make a door.

"I see you've already trashed your room?" Damian motioned to the, well the only word that came to his mind was 'nest'.

"It's my blanket fort!" Jason claimed proudly as he carefully crawled under with his tea. He reached farther back under the desk to pull out a book and smiled up at Damian. "Bruce said I was grounded ta my room and then took my T.V., as if I actually used the damn thing." Damian rose a brow at Jason expectantly and the boy seemed to back track. "Darn thing, I meant 'darn' thing."

"I take it Pennyworth still has yet to really make that lesson stick then, has he?" Damian asked as he sat on the naked mattress of Jason's bed.

"It's not my fault. On the streets, ya had ta show you weren't afraid of a few bad words. Now it's all about minding manners and not pi- ticking no body off," Jason bemoaned. "so it's not my fault that it's taking forever ta memorize every stupid rule." The pout might had made a weaker man melt. Damian was not a weak man.

"So is that why you're grounded?" he asked. Jason's pout moved to a scowl.

"No. I'm grounded because there's no justice in the world," he declared. Damian hummed in sarcastic agreement causing Jason to glare at him.

"So what injustice has fallen upon you?" Damian pushed as he settled more comfortably on the bed.

"There are a couple of jerks at my new school, and they asked me very nicely ta rearrange their faces," Jason 'explained', "and so I did."

"I believe I will need farther clarification." Jason huffed at Damian before he too settled in his pillow 'fort', and took a breath to begin his story. A very, _very_ exaggerated breath. Maybe Bruce should get this one into theater.

"So I started a week after everyone else 'cause Bruce had only picked me up two weeks 'fore school had started-."

"Can you not speak like a hoodlum from the streets?" Damian interrupted.

"I _am_ and hoodlum from the streets," Jason scowled, "I gotta stick ta my roots!"

"You're going to find it necessary to ditch the Crime Alley accent or everyone is going to know you're Nightling," Damian pointed out. Jason just huffed again before sighing, very, _very_ dramatically.

"Fine!" He said in an exasperated tone. Jason then cleared his throat and started his tale up again. "Anyway. Everything was fine until English Lit when the teacher, Mr. Birchwood, decided to fix the assigned seating. See, since I was a week new he had just put me on the end, but he decided today that he was just going make me and Bentley Windsow switch places since the room was suppose to be in alphabetical order and we were throwing it off. But Bentley was use to sitting with his pal Jacob Steward and me being Jason Todd, put me between them, so they decided they were going to pick on me. I just ignored them at first, but that only made them try harder. They then started to make comments about Bruce, but I ignored that too. I didn't want to, but I know how bad it looks reacting to shi-crap like that. Tends to make people think it's true. Then Mr. Birchwood asked a question about Ray Bradbury's 'Fahrenheit 451' and I had just read that book last summer so I answered. _Sure_ I was a bit overly enthusiastic about it, but give me a break, it was the first time reading ever gave me an edge in something! So of course Jacob and Bentley start making fun of me for being a 'teacher's pet', but I ignored that too! I stopped being able to ignore them when Bentley Windsow said that only fa-," Jason paused and glared down at his tea. "He said 'only fa-'. He said only gays like reading. But he didn't use the word 'gay' and _that's_ when I jumped him. I then proceeded to bloody his nose with his own hard back copy of 'To Kill A Mockingbird' by Harper Lee."

Damian paused and had to appreciate the poetry in the image of a book about fighting discrimination without violence being used to violently fight a bigot. Though he had to ask, "What was it that made you jump to violence? Being called 'gay' or being made fun of for reading?"

"Neither. I hit him cause he said the 'f' word," Jason clarified. "I don't care about being called 'gay'. I grew up on the streets, I've been called worse." Damian had to nod in acceptance of the boy's answer.

"So you didn't approve of the slur? I would think growing on the streets you'd get use to hearing them."

"Didn't mean I liked it, and you can bet your as- erm, bottom dollar that anyone I could beat up for it I did. 'frick' and 'darn' and 'crud', their bad forms? I used them all the time! But the eff-ay-gee word? No! Same with the 'N' word, the 'C' word, and the 'R' word!" Damian followed along and started to get a better understanding of the boy before him. Jason's sense of justice expanded even into his vocabulary, and Damian could see why his father saw 'Nightling' in him for it.

Damian and Jason spent another couple of hours talking and bonding. Damian still found Jason to be a bit uncouth, but he did have to give the boy credit in his dedication to his love of reading. 'During the summer and winter the library was good shelter and I just kinda picked it up-' was his excuse for his bookish nature. By the time they finished talking Pennyworth explained that dinner had been reheated and they would have company now that his father had returned from work. The eldest son figured that if conversation with his father remained as icy as it had for the past few years, he'd just strike up another with Jason to prove that it wasn't due to his own incompatibilities.

* * *

A few days later found Damian attempting to hold a civil conversation with his father without Jason around to act as a crutch for him. The end result saw the two men sitting in the study by the empty fire place sipping at their tea, not knowing how to break the ice between them. It was a heavy silence that made Damian wonder if it was even worth it to try to salvage his relationship with his father. The man didn't seem all that interested in the same. Then again, this was his father, a man who, while held more love and passion than Damian's mother, had even less practice showing it. The fact that the Oh-So-Busy Bruce Wayne and Oh-So-Important Batman had both been put aside for the past hour in favor of a wordless cup of tea with his son should probably speak volumes about how hard the older man was trying. But Damian wanted him to try _harder_.

Just as Damian was about to really work himself into breaking the ice with some scathing and completely uncalled for words, the front door opened and slammed shut while an ornery fourteen year old boy shouted at the top of his lungs, "I QUIT SCHOOL!". Both Damian and his father rushed to the door where Damian's father instantly set in on Jason for slamming the door. When the boy seemed properly admonished Damian felt it was an appropriate time to satiate his own curiosity.

"So, my I ask why you are considering dropping out?" Damian asked.

"I'm not considering! It's past considered! It's been decided!" Jason called out flailing his arms about as he spoke.

"Seriously, Father, when are you going to have him enrolled in an acting troupe?" Damian muttered to the man beside him.

"I, too, wonder why I put it off," his father muttered back, a tired though amused, look on his face.

"Dames, ya 'member when I told ya 'bout Bentley Windsow and Jacob Steward, right?" Jason started in by referencing a previous conversation.

"I do. I also remember telling you to talk like a civilized person."

"Gah! Fine!" Jason relented and straightened up as he continued to talk, as if keeping a proper posture helped remind him to keep to proper dictation as well. "So, get this, after Bentley's face healed up and was no longer all bruised to hel-hec- all bruised up," Jason had to try a couple times to watch his mouth and Damian's father's lips twitched as if threatening to smile, "he recruited 'Kegs' Kingsly and Monte Brooks to help him and Jacob try to 'teach me a lesson'. Alright, fine, I can handle myself in a fight. I can even take a beating and throw the fight to preserve my identity as Nightling. But Kegs said that the reason I beat up Bentley was because he made fun of Ray Bradbury and I corrected him and said it was because he said the 'F' word, but that just made them think I was talking about the word 'Fu-'erm the street version of 'frick'. Then they started chanting that I was a 'teacher's pet' and a 'nerd' and then they tried to beat me up and I was already angry and frustrated and so when Kegs tried to punch me, I hit him in the face using his own fist and stomped off when they were distracted. Now they have everyone saying 'F-word' around me, and no, I'm not abbreviating that time, they are literally saying 'F-word', and started a rumor that I ran _crying_! I didn't once cry the entire time!"

Jason was out of breath from his story, and considering how many run-on sentences he used, Damian was impressed that he didn't pass out half-way through. He did notice that the younger boy's eyes were slightly wet as if he was fighting back tears, and his nose was dripping a little as Jason no doubt fought off the urge to 'sniffle'. Damian hummed in thought and chanced a looked to his father, who's stone straight face was all the proof Damian needed to know that the man was dying of laughter on the inside. The older brother rolled his eyes and addressed the younger boy again.

"So you're plan to fix your sullied reputation is to run with your tail between your legs like a coward?" He asked. Jason glared at him before he seemed to realize the truth of what Damian was saying.

"I, uh, I guess I can't do that either, can I?" Jason muttered to himself before his eyes found his shoes and he bit his lip.

"Honestly if the worst is being considered a 'teacher's pet' then I believe you're doing fine. At least if your peers are constantly looking down on you they'll never suspect you to secretly be Nightling." Damian smirked when Jason glared back up at him. "Consider it a sacrifice for the greater good."

"Fine," Jason huffed as he crossed his arms. Putting so much overemphasis on the action it was ridiculous.

"Also," Damian's father jumped into the conversation, finally getting it together, "I want you to try to avoid fights. I understand that these boys cornered you and that this 'Kegs' threw the first punch, but I would rather you duck and run while at school."

"Bruce. I ain't no sissy. I'm from the street, and if someone throws a punch at me, I'ma hit 'em back. Three times as hard," Jason said plainly while looking his adoptive father in the eye. "And I promise this, next time those losers corner me, one of 'em is going to the hospital."

There was nothing left to say on the topic, at least, as far as Damian could see. It appeared that Jason was of a similar mind set as he picked up his book bag from where he had dropped it before and marched his way up the stairs to his room. Some where in the back of Damian's mind he could hear a voice telling him that this wasn't the end of it.

* * *

It was barely a week later and Damian was walking toward the headmaster's office of Jason's high school. Damian had to be the one to go, of course, because his father was busy in a meeting for Wayne Industries that Fox wouldn't let him out of and Pennyworth insisted that he needed to work on dinner and requested that Damian be the one to go. Damian was more than well aware that the butler was just giving him another opportunity to bond with his new younger brother and therefore let himself be manipulated to the task easily enough. However, he was not prepared for the queasy feeling in the bottom of his gut at the thought of dealing with an irate school official.

The feeling subsided a little with the aid of amusement at the site of three young teenage boys with their own parents, sitting in the waiting room. Each one sported some impressively dark bruises on their faces and each of their parents were seething. Judging by the count of the boys, Damian deduced that Jason must have made good on his threat to send one of his bullies to the hospital.

Ready to get this over with, Damian walked up to the desk where the secretary was filing paper work and cleared his throat, "Excuse me, I'm Damian Wayne, Jason's brother."

The secretary nodded at him and lead him to the door just behind her desk to the Headmaster's office, where Headmaster Smith sat glaring at Jason. Jason, for his part, was failing to hide the satisfied look on his face despite knowing it would only be detrimental to his own well being. Damian figured as the boy's big brother, he'd best help the kid out with that.

"So," Damian called Jason's attention, "Which work of classic literature did they mock this time, Nerd?"

The speed in which Jason's subtle smirk soured made Damian's heart sing.

* * *

 **A/N:** Alright, I'm not using a beta on this and I'm barely giving these chapters a cursory glance before uploading them just to make certain they're legible.

Alright, so here's Damian and Jason bonding. I will be honest, I find there tends to be a lack of balance in Oldest Brother Damian in most Robin Reverse AU's I've seen. So I'm trying extra hard not to fall into that same trap by making Damian _too_ nice to his little brothers, but I also don't want him to be the same immature little prick that Baby Brother Damian of the cannon is.

I love Nerd Jason. I also know that Jason isn't going to get stuck with the title without a fight so this is going to be fun.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Loved IT!'. I'll accept it.)


	3. Birthday Cake Blues

**A/N:** I don't really have anything to write up here, so, um, enjoy?

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick -10 Jason - 14

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Chapter Three: Birthday Cake Blues

Jason tipped toed his way down the hall way. He thankfully didn't have far to go, given that Dick's room was right next to his own. He quietly opened his younger brother's bedroom door and peered in to see the small curled up form as he snored lightly in his sleep. It was adorable now, but Jason could just see six years down the line those cute light snored growing into a chainsaw like roars.

Jason had to chuckle to himself before he reached down to gently shake the boy awake. Dick wasn't much of a light sleeper so Jason had to get steadily rougher with his shaking before the younger stired.

"Oi, Dickie, wake up." Jason tried his best to keep his voice soft, not wanting to jar Dick awake as much as just rouse him from his sleep. Dick grumbled a bit before he opened his eyes, blinking groggily up at Jason.

"Jay? Wa izzi?" Dick asked with a slurred speech that came from both sleep and being ESL.

"Happy birthday, Dickie," Jason answered, pulling a gift out from behind his back. Dick grumbled and glared for a moment before his mind registered that the gift was for him.

"It's my birthday!" He shouted in surprise as if to remind himself. Jason snickered and ruffled his hair with his free hand, using the other to keep the gift out of Dick's reach.

"Not so fast. First I want you to agree to come down stairs with me once you've opened it," Jason told him with a serious voice.

"But it's before six. We'll get in trouble," Dick reminded Jason.

Jason just rolled his eyes. "It's your birthday Dick, and you won't be alone. Come on, you want your gift now or not?" Dick looked at the hastily wrapped package, covered in duct tape and old newspaper.

"Now," the boy decided.

"Well, then here you go." Jason handed his little brother his gift and Dick immediately tore into it. In two large rips, a medium sized, stuffed elephant had been bared of it's wrappings.

"Jay-" Dick seemed at a loss for words for a brief second, and knowing the young chatter box, Jason decided to take this moment to explain the gift a bit.

"It's a new little brother for Peanut. Like how you're my new little brother," Jason said as he lifted the ratted up, old stuffed elephant that seemed to forever stand on it's last leg. It was as if the very existence of the stuffed toy relied solely on the innocent hopes and dreams of young children and Dick was the only one left to believe. Damian had once offered to replace the plush but the very suggestion had thrown Dick into a screaming fit that lasted for hours until Damian made a show of apologizing to the original elephant. Something Jason had prompted him to do and will forever feel proud of himself for; not only the fact that he got the tough and serious Damian to talk to a stuffed elephant, but also for the mere fact that it worked.

Jason had been worried that Dick's first assumption upon receiving the new elephant would be that Jason was trying to replace the old one like Damian had suggested, but after hearing Jason's reasoning, Dick seemed satisfied and smiled brightly.

"Sister! His new little sister and her name is Zitka!" Dick announced proudly. Jason had to laughed before he ruffled Dick's hair again. Dick giggled before he lifted Zitka up for similar treatment. Jason just smiled and complied.

"Alright. Deal's a deal. Let's go," Jason said as he grabbed one of Dick's arms and hauled him out of bed.

"What are we going to do down stairs, Jay?" Dick asked. He stumbled after his brother dutifully, if hesitantly. Jason was steadily bringing out the trouble maker in his younger brother, it was just taking a bit of time coaxing it out of him.

"We're gonna bake you a birthday cake, Dickie," Jason replied with a big grin on his face. Jason had been planning it for a week now and even managed to get Alfred to buy the ingredients they'd need. He at first played with the idea not to tell the Butler and see how the man reacted along side Bruce, but then thought the better of it for a long list of reasons. On top of which was Jason's love of seeing daylight.

"Do you even know how?" Dick asked skeptically.

"Of course I do. You just gotta make sure to read the book carefully and follow the directions well enough."

"You're suppose to read the box, not some book," Dick 'corrected' him. Jason knew that if Alfred had heard that, the poor old butler might just have had a heart attack. Jason just snickered.

"Your folks use the old 'Betty Crocker' recipes, huh?"

"Mom's favorite is the red velvet, but Dad always says she might as well get the chocolate cause at least it's not a liar." Dick was rubbing at his eyes when he spoke, and so he missed the pained look Jason accidentally sent him. Jason couldn't help it, it was just a swell of emotion that flooded his chest when he heard the younger orphan refer to his parents in present tense.

"Yeah, well, I'm not too fancy, so we're going to be making vanilla with chocolate icing. Alright?" Jason flipped the lights on in the kitchen and went straight to the sink to wash his hands. "You can put Zitka on the counter over there so she'll be out of harms way, okay?" Jason suggested over his shoulder. It was as if the mention of the elephant reminded Dick that it wasn't the one he was used to and the panicked look in his eye immediately put Jason on edge.

"Peanut! Jason we left Peanut upstairs! We have to go back for him!" Dick cried. Jason floundered for a brief second before he got an idea.

"I don't know, Dickie, Peanut isn't as young as his little sis, here. If you ask me, he looked like he could use a couple more hours of sleep. Why don't we let him rest a bit longer and save him a slice of cake when it's done?" When Dick visibly calmed down at Jason's 'logic', Jason breathed out in relief.

"I guess you're right. He was up late last night," Dick decided before he tucked Zitka up on the island counter and out of the way.

"Okay, now wash your hands real quick while I get out the stuff we'll need." And from there the mess started.

* * *

Alfred came in about an hour later as Jason poured cake batter into a pan, the boy was covered head to toe in flour and his little brother wasn't much better off. Dick was sitting up on the counter holding the pan on either side as if to keep it still, he had the added flavor of raw egg in his hair as well as the flour that decorated his face. Alfred smiled to himself despite the utter mess the two children had made of the kitchen in favor of pulling out a small digital camera. He had a scrape book to fill after all.

"Alfie! Good Morning!" Jason called over to the aging butler with a bright smile. His call startled young Dick whom didn't realize the old man was in the door way and looked at him with an expression of panic.

"It wasn't my idea Alfie!" He called out immediately, throwing his older brother under the proverbial bus. Jason noticed it too.

"Hey, you runt!" The older of the two growled.

"It wasn't!" Dick defended himself as he jumped off the counter and backed away from the pan, as if it absolved him of the guilt. Alfred allowed himself a small chuckle before he cleared up the misunderstanding.

"It's perfectly alright, Master Dick. Master Jason had acquired permission last week. He's been planning this for sometime from what I understand." Dick seemed to calm down after that, but Jason was now thoroughly miffed.

"Brat, trying to get me to take the hit for you. What's with the doubt? It's not like I've ever steered you wrong before!" Jason went back to emptying the mixing bowl into the glass pan. He had even procured a rubber spatula to scrap out the batter at the bottom of the dish.

"Nuh-ah, remember the thing with the pool balls?" Dick reminded his older brother.

"Okay, the 'Billiard Ball' incident was _your_ fault. That makes it different," Jason declared.

"It was NOT _my_ fault! You weren't playing right!" Dick accused back.

"I wasn't _playing_. I was _practicing_ ," Jason growled in response.

"I hate to interrupt this rather important debate, but I believe the oven is sufficiently heated, and the rest of the dishes may be washed as you are waiting the recommended forty-five minutes for the cake to be properly baked," Alfred interjected, ending the argument before it got too loud. Jason carefully took the pan and slid it into the top half of the rather advanced kitchen range. Alfred started up the soap and water in the sink before pulling a step ladder out for Dick's use. When both boys were stationed at the sink to start cleaning their own mess, Alfred began to make breakfast. He figured he might as well make pancakes as the ingredients were still left out after the boys had used them for Dick's birthday cake.

He thought back to Jason's suggestion that he and Dick be the ones to make it, insisting that his first birthday in Wayne Manor needed a 'home-made' cake. When Alfred had tried to assure Jason that he would be making the cake from scratch at home, Jason had a guilty look on his face as he shuffled his feet. It took a bit of goading before the butler had gotten him to admit that he didn't want Alfred to bake the cake because Alfred's cakes were too 'professional' looking and that it needed to _l_ _ook_ homemade too. Alfred chose to take it as a compliment and think as well of the bonding that was sure to come from the experience. Looking to the two youngest of his master's children, Alfred couldn't help but smile. Of all his new older brother's, Dick took to Jason the fastest. It helped that they came from similar worlds. Neither were quite used to the extravagance of high society and seemed to feed off each other when it came to following through with bad ideas.

At that thought, the two had begun a splash battle with the soapy water. Alfred just kept to his corner of the kitchen. It was Dick's first birthday with out Mr. and Mrs. Grayson to celebrate it with him. Alfred figured a bit of mopping, on top of all the other cleaning the kitchen was going to require, was a small price to pay to help make it a good one non-the-less.

"Hey, Dickie," Alfred watched that mischievous gleam enter the fourteen year-old's eyes, "Happy Tenth!"

With that he gave his brother one large splash and the war had escalated.

* * *

 **A/N:** I thought about going farther into this but it really wouldn't have been anything new. Just a lot of family fluff and such and I'm actually pretty bad at that. I have a chapter about the eclipse I think I _might_ do, but then again, I'm also trying not to write too far ahead of myself...

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Happy Birthday Dickie!'. I'll accept it.)


	4. The Worth of Your Word

**A/N:** I know it's been a while bit that's why this works best as a non-linear story. Which, to remind people, means that I will be jumping around on the timeline OF this story. I'm sorry if that wasn't made clear before. I also know a lot of you were hoping for more Tim. Trust me, he is my absolute _favorite_ character, there _will_ be plenty of him in this story. I just want to spend a bit of time looking into the other brothers first before we move into the tragic tale that it Timothy Drake-Wayne of this universe. Spoiler: Pretty much all bad things happened to Tim.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick-10 Damian-23

* * *

Pecking Order: Chapter Four: The Worth of Your Word

Robin swung gracefully back and forth while he felt his blood rush to his face. Honestly he didn't know how much of it was from actual gravity, and how much was from the embarrassment of having to be caught by Shadowbat the way he did. He was going to say it was mostly the second since it was only his second night out and his eldest brother was giving him a very dark glare.

"If I said I was really, _really_ sorry, would you consider not telling Batman?" Dick asked.

"No." That was the only reply he received before Damian went about getting him down.

"I really _am_ sorry, Da-, Shadowbat." Dick bit his lip when he saw the look Damian was giving him. He hadn't missed the fact that Dick about said his name in the field. Dick wasn't even allowed to use the excuse that he was still getting used to it. After all, what if they had to spontaneously go undercover and he needed to use a different code name for Dami all together? It was important that Dick know how to switch between names on the spot and not get mixed up. His future as 'Robin' depended on it. Especially if he ever expected to get promoted to 'Nightling' someday.

"If you are indeed apologetic, I would advise you to heed my direction from here on out, Robin." Damian's voice grew low and into a snarl. "Such as when I tell you not to take unnecessary risks for the sake of _showing off_."

"But I wasn't showing off. I was bored!" Dick tried to defend himself. He was kneeling so he could properly run some feeling back into his ankle.

"If you're bored then perhaps you should return for the night," Damian snapped. That got Dick's attention to just how much trouble he was about to be in.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise!" Damian gave Dick a very stern look.

"You promise? You are giving me your word? Now how much is your word worth, I wonder?"

"What?" Dick was confused. Since when were words worth anything? Did he have to pay to speak now?

"If you give your word about something, such as doing as I tell you, only for you to then turn around and break that promise, your word isn't worth much, now is it?"

"Well I-"

" _If_ you manage to keep your word here and now, and continue to in the future, I would wager your word to be worth more than even that of Batman's."

"Would it really? That would be coo-"

"If you shackle yourself to your word, I can only imagine the blunder you'd end up in if you made the mistake of making the wrong promise at the wrong time. How much would your word be worth then?" Dick felt very small as Damian loomed over him. It was only now that Dick realized that Damian didn't care for his promises.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered again. He didn't know why Damian never liked him, but he did realize that he had done very little in the way of proving the man wrong about him. If only Jason were around to ease the tension. Just as it looked like Damian was about to go into another lecture about apologizes, there was a scream from an alleyway nearby.

They both ran for it, Dick realizing their disadvantage of not being on the roof top. That was his fault having fallen off an icy ledge when he was doing flips just earlier. Damian didn't say anything about it as he seemed to be back in 'Shadowbat' mode; moving to the side of the opening of the alleyway. His dark gray cloak swept silently at his ankles as he replaced the heavy hood and readied his katana. His mask cover the entire top half of his face, which worked with the hood to leave only his chin barely visible in the shadows. The rest of his costume looked similar to Batman's though his chest bore a gray bat on black armor instead of the other way around like Bruce's did. Dick took a deep breath and put himself back into his 'Hero Mode' as well. It was sorta like acting, the way Stephanie tried to explain it to him once. He let himself remember that at that moment he wore a dark green domino mask and dark red body armor, save for the pants which were the same green as his mask. He also had a cape, but when he kept tripping on it during training, Alfred had pulled the hem up to the top of his thighs instead of sweeping at his feet like the other's. His sleeves were also short, unlike the rest, though that was more stylistic than practicality on Dick's part.

His mind back into the game, Robin glanced around Shadowbat's shoulder as they watched a young woman holding a pistol up at a middle aged man wielding a knife defensively. They both looked scared. It was easy to see why Shadowbat had yet to attack, there was no way to tell who was the attacker and who was the prepared victim. Robin tired to look closer for more clues. The woman's cloths were ragged and dirty, she looked like she hadn't bathed in a long while, probably homeless and mugging this man for food money. The man was dressed in a manner that suggested a middle class worker on his way home, he was kinda ugly looking and can't possibly do well with the ladies. He could have just tried to take advantage of the woman before him before she surprised him by pulling out her gun. After a few beats, Shadowbat relaxed beside him and slowly walked into the alley with his arms raised in a placating manner.

"Ma'am, Sir, I believe this evening may go better for both of you if you replace your weapons and go your separate ways," Shadowbat insisted.

"I'll put my gun 'way when he's lost the knife!" The woman cried in a thick crime alley accent.

"Like hell I'm putting my knife away while she's got a gun out!" The man replied just as distressed.

"What are you going do with a knife to a gun?" The woman asked him with an expression on her face like she thought he was an idiot.

"I, well, I," The man floundered for a moment, "It make me feel safe, if you must know." There was a pause before the woman started laughing, and put her gun down.

"Oh, God 'ave marcy! You nearly scared me ta death! I thought cha were attacking me!" Robin watched as she put the gun back in a bag that was hanging from her shoulder. "Did you reely pull outta knife when you thought I was about to shoot cha?" The man blushed a bright red and folded his knife to pocket it safely.

"I suppose I'll just be on my way then," the man excused himself and started back out of the alley.

"Well, thanks fo' clearing that up, Shadowbat," the woman called to the hero in front of her before she moved to a bin of trash that she must have been rummaging through when she was first startled by the man. Shadownbat came back out of the alley toward Robin and he frowned, looking toward where the man had walked off.

"Case solved?" Robin asked.

"Maybe. I know she was probably digging through the trash, but what was he doing in the alleyway that it would have startled the woman?" Shadowbat pulled out his grappling hook and shot it to the roof, lifting himself instantaneously. Robin sighed and followed suite. He was suppose to be learning after all.

They quietly followed the man until as he wandered the dark streets of Gotham, continuously checking street names and something he seemed to had written on a piece of paper. He was trying to get someplace. He seemed nervous; always checking over his shoulder. His gaze even swept the roof tops every once in a while, nearly spotting Robin twice.

After they tailed him about ten blocks, the man squared his shoulders before walking down another alleyway. This time he seemed he seemed confident about having made it to the right destination. He walked in just as the two heroes made it to the roof tops of the alley's buildings.

"Where were you, Sims?" a large man in a dark suite asked from the back of the alleyway. On either side of him was a body guard with thin sunglasses and an earpiece. They also wore dark suites though obviously as part of a uniform and not as a style like their boss. Dick noted that they were both smaller than their boss in both terms of height and body muscle, and the one on the boss' right was a woman. Previous lessons told him to be weary as this maybe a sign that the body guards might be more experienced in martial arts or marksmanship than they look and should not be underestimated.

"Sorry Boss, I was lost, I swear, I meant to be on time!" 'Sims' defended himself instantly.

"Quiet. You weren't followed, were you?" The boss asked.

"No, I swear. I mean, I was stopped by some mugger who held me up at gun point but Shadowbat stopped him. The masks are too busy with him to have followed me," Sims lied. Dick frowned at the guy from his spot on top of the fire escape. Why bother lying about all of that? He even lied about the sex of the person who had him at gun point!

"You lied to me about your wife, Sims, remember? You swore she was sick and needed a hospital," the boss brought up in a growl. "You aren't even married, are you Simmons?"

"She's my ex-wife, I still love her, I can't help it. I still call her my wife!" Sims swore. Dick found it really hard to believe this. After everything the guy lied about, Dick couldn't be certain that he was telling the truth about this.

"It hardly matters. Now tell me about Stiffins, I need to know if he's got his business secured yet."

"Almost, Jon just managed to get a loan on his grandmother's home so he could afford it. She believes in him and is trying to support him, so she put everything on the line to help him out. He even put a 'Goal Board' up in his office with 'Pay Grand-Mama back plus interest' at the very top. It was just enough to pay off the building he needs," Sims quickly relayed for the man before him.

"So if Stiffs fails, it's poor ol' Granny that loses everything, huh? Perfect. I want you to put as much doubt in Johnny-boy's mind, and just as he's about to falter, I'll swoop in and put the last bit of pressure on him. You understand, Sims?"

"Y-yes Boss, I'll be sure to question everything Jon does. He thinks of me as a brother. Just you watch, his confidence will take a nose dive with-in the week!" Sims nodded as he spoke and his whole body trembled terribly.

"Good, and if we can get Stiffins off the market before he even launches, I'll pay you so big you'll be able to afford that unnecessary surgery for your imaginary wife of yours!" The boss started to laugh at his own joke.

"Thank you, Boss! Thank you!" Sims cried out with a smile as the large 'boss' man and his two body guards shoved past the shacking rat to the exit of the alley way.

"You keep me informed about our friend Stiffins, and try to curb that lying of yours before it gets you into trouble, Sims." The Boss got into a shinny, black SUV with his body guards and drove away before Sims walked away and when straight for the bus stop.

"What do we do Shadowbat?" Dick asked, looking to his elder brother.

"I'm going to put a tag on our new friend 'Sims' as well as look into what Evens Inc. has been up to lately," Damian explained, "Other than that, there really isn't much we _can_ do."

"Why Evens Inc.?"

"That man who just got into the SUV, that was Rodger Evens, CEO of the small time Evens Inc. An 'up and comer' of the pharmaceutical world. My bet would be that 'Jon Stiffins' is planning to open a pharmaceutical with more reasonable prices," Damian explained.

Dick nodded as Damian finished typing something on his wrist computer, putting the information into a file for further investigation after patrol. The two of them started off again on their rounds but something kept bother Dick. Finally he had to mention it.

"That Sims guy. He kept swearing, like, making promises and stuff," Dick muttered out of the blue.

"Yes, he did," Damian all but brushed Dick's comment off.

"But nothing he said was honest. He lied about everything to do with the homeless lady. He didn't even need to."

"You're correct. I suspect he's what is known as a 'compulsive liar'. There are some people who lie so much that they've lost all sight of the truth. They sometimes even have themselves convinced of their lies. There are even stories of some who do such a good job of just that that polygraph tests are useless on them." Dick listened as Damian spoke. He thought back to their earlier conversation about the worth of Dick's words, and some how he was finally able to understand.

Sims word was worthless, but Damian's word was gold. After all, there wasn't a single time that Dick could think of that Damian lied, even in order to spare his feelings. And right there and then, Dick decided he wanted a word like his eldest brother's.

With that, Dick managed to finish the night off without fidgeting or showing off, . . . too much.

* * *

 **A/N:** So here we have a Damian and Dick bonding. It's a bit of a rough start for them. Damian's not the most approachable person and Dick's used to people with their hearts on their sleeves, but we should see them warm up to each other soon enough.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Worth It!'. I'll accept it.)


	5. Bruce Meet Tim

**A/N:** You all waited so patiently for a Tim fic. I give you Bruce meeting Timothy! It will read a little differently than the others so I hope you guys don't mind the new tone.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Tim-12 Damian-18

* * *

Chapter Four: Bruce Meet Tim

One of the things Bruce would never admit to was how often he saw his life and past mistakes flash before his eyes. Mainly for the fact that it would mean that he had to fess up to messing up so fantastically that he actually saw his life flash before his eyes, but also that he'd then mess up again not too long later. As the blood rushed to his head and the water filled the tank below him, Bruce couldn't help but think back to one of his more recent arguments with his son Damian.

"You talk as if you don't need Nightling around! Do you know how many times you would have died if not for me?"

"I did just fine without Nightling before. You're a hero in training, don't overestimate yourself."

"I'm eighteen years old, Father, and I have been 'training' my whole life!"

"Fighting well is only one part of what it takes out there. You need more life experience."

"More life experience? I have eleven years of life experience on the streets! That's only five years less than you!"

That still hadn't been enough to convince Bruce, and even then he honestly couldn't remember how the argument started. He did know how it ended, though. With Damian packing his bag and slamming the door. At first Bruce had been worried that Damian went off to rejoin his mother and the league of assassins. It was made evident with the first appearance of Shadowbat in Bludhaven that wasn't the case. Deep in his heart, Bruce couldn't help but be proud of his son for having begun to make his own way in the world, at the same time scared that he wouldn't be able to be there for Damian should something happen.

All of that was a week ago, and now Bruce was the one who needed assistance. Riddler had gotten the jump on him and he was now chained up, hanging by his ankles over a seven foot tall cylindrical fish tank. The water stank of chlorine and he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. Riddler was smart and spoke loudly so Batman could hear him over all the water, blood, and regret that the captured hero was being bombarded with.

"It was quiet unfortunate for you to have followed me here, Batman. Unfortunate for you!" Riddler laughed as he walked over to grab a hangling control box. It had four buttons; two black, one red and one green. His thumb hovered over the green button as he spoke. "While you're hanging there, I'll give you a riddle to mull over as you drown! If I roar, and rain, and have in common with polo and planes, what am I?" With that, Edward Nygma press the green button and sauntered off, twirling his cane as he went. The chain holding Batman slowly started to lower him into the icy water and Bruce was nearly insulted by Edward's riddle. Why not add falls to a riddle about water.

His mind tried to think about something more important, such as how to get free. He didn't have his belt, and he had no back up. His mind supplied the image of Damian, his dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes, nine years old again, looking worried as his father tried to over come yet another death trap. Bruce nearly lost his breathe at how real the image was. It was as if a young Damian really was standing on the other side of the glass. Bruce watched as Damian then ran to the hanging control and grabbed it. Suddenly, Bruce felt the chain stop and begin to pull him out of the tank.

When his head was no longer submerged, Batman took in large heaving breaths, sucking in air greedily to help clear the hallucinations from his eyes. But as the he took in air, the boy at the controls continued to fiddle with the buttons until the large hero was being lower safely to the dry ground of the wear house. As Bruce lifted himself from the ground and the boy got to work picking the pad locks that held the chains in place, Batman was able to see it wasn't Damian after all. This boy looked familiar, however Bruce just couldn't place a name to his face.

"Common Batman, you have to hurry before Riddler gets to the Masterson's private airfield!" the boy exclaimed.

"The Masterson's private airfield?" Batman inquired.

"The Riddler needs to get out of Gotham, right? Then he's got to be heading to the Masterson's private airfield over on Crowley."

"Why would you suspect there?" Bruce now tried to stand but found that he still had no feeling in his legs. The boy was kind enough to lend Batman his shoulder to lean on as he helped Bruce to a crate to sit on. It was strange, like having Nightling at his side again.

"Because of his riddle before he left. Remember?" The boy's voice was incredulous, as if Batman missed an obvious clue.

"The one about water?"

"It wasn't about water, it was about lions!"

"Water rains, Falls roar, cars hydro-plane, and then there's water-polo.."

The boy shook his head as Bruce spoke before interrupting, "Lions _reign_ as kings of the jungle. They also roar. The Masterson's family crest is of a roaring lion with a crown. They also own a private polo course that can be found right next to their private airfield for their private jets and planes!" As the boy spoke the clues clicked in place and Bruce felt like a moron for not having caught such an obvious riddle.

"How old are you?"

"Tweleve..." Bruce looked the boy up and down before frowning. The boy was tiny for a tweleve year old. Malnurished, perhaps?

"What are you doing out here, where is your family?"

"I, well, um, ..." The boy seemed extremely hesitant to answer. Bruce gave one thought to staying and learning more about the child, but time was against him and he needed to get to the Masterson's airfield. His utility belt was on a nearby crate where the Riddler tossed it after it had zapped him. He had tried to open some of the compartments but accidentally activated one of Batman's security measures.

"It will have to wait," Batman got back to his feet and shot a grappling hook to the open sky-light. It must have been how the boy got in to save Batman. As the hook latched to the edge of the roof, Bruce's eyes followed the most likely route the boy had to have taken to get down from the skyward window safely. Even the easiest path for a boy of his size would have required a significant degree of difficulty. Bruce looked back to the boy who was looking at him with the same big eyes as most fans do their favorite idols. "We are going to have a talk about how dangerous your hobbies are."

With that Batman took off and set after the Riddler.

* * *

Bruce sat at the bat-computer thinking over the events that had occurred over the night. The strange boy had been right, Bruce arrived to the Masterson's private airfield just as Riddler had gotten the engine started on their jet. Batman had staled it with a localized EMP and locked the Riddler inside before calling the police to pick him up.

After finishing with the Riddler, Batman went back to look for the boy only to see that the skylight had been closed and locked back up. That was the only sign that the boy had been there at all. No prints, no loose hairs, nothing out of place. Just a locked skylight where Batman had left it open. Bruce leaned forward against the control panel of the computer as he tried to search his memory. He was certain that he knew that boy from somewhere.

After nothing came to mind, Bruce finished his report

* * *

It was a week later and Bruce hadn't seen the boy again, even once. He had all but given up. He had refocused his attention toward his crime fighting and trying to figure out what the best strategy for dealing with his son. Damian, for his part, was out right refusing to acknowledge his father existed. Bruce knew that they couldn't continue like this, but if Damian kept acting like a spoiled child huffing about how unfair his father was, then there was nothing to help it.

This night, however, it all had to be put away in favor of the new recreation center being put up near crime alley. The idea was that it would give poor and/or homeless families a place to let their children interact with the community and not get lost in darker aspects of Gotham. Letting children whose parents couldn't afford sports equipment a chance to play with balls and bats and hoops as well as a safe play for them to do. It was an important matter to Bruce, and one he took seriously.

Unfortunately, those he was hosting in the Recreation Center's fundraising Gala, were a little less than serious about the whole thing. Bruce, all done up with a bow-tie, kept fighting the urge to grind his teeth as he reminded himself that these people were donating substantial amounts toward the center. The problem was trying to forget that their only real motivations for doing so was to brag about how much they could afford to give away, gossip to other socialites about the latest scandals, and be seen while doing so.

One such couple was the Drakes, a poorly disguised matriarchy in a man-ruled world. Mrs. Janet Drake was a brilliant woman who knew everything about anything business, and was probably the only reason her husband's company didn't nose dive before it ever kicked off. Mr. Jack Drake, on the other hand, was one of the most willfully ignorant men Bruce had ever met. Yet he seemed to fully believe that he was the brains of any operation Bruce had the misfortune of witnessing him preform. Once Bruce had wondered why Janet didn't just take the reins of the business or start her own, but a little research showed exactly why. No one would support a business started by a woman with Janet Harris' unfortunate background. Poor, homeless relatives, incarcerated relatives, abusive father, suicidal mother; Janet Drake was a woman who wanted her past forgotten. Being the CEO of a business would do the very opposite of that.

"Mr. Wayne!" Janet Drake acknowledged as she and her husband walked by. Bruce pretended not to see how Jake was paying much more attention to the couples dancing than the conversation his wife was trying to start between the two businessmen. She was obviously trying to get him to mingle and help the brand. He obviously just wanted to enjoy the party.

"Mrs. Drake, and Mr. Drake! Enjoying the evening so far?" Bruce asked, engaging in small talk.

"It's a wonderful party, Bruce, and such a lovely cause. Whatever gave you the idea to build a Youth Center?" Janet asked. She was being clever in how she manipulated the conversation. With just two sentences she had complimented him, something he worked hard on, and shown (what at least seemed to be) a genuine interest in his methods.

"Not too long ago, I ran into a young boy who reminded me of my own son, Damian, when he was little. You can understand how it then broke my heart to see the child was without any supervision or a proper way to busy himself that wouldn't have landed him in trouble. I haven't seen him since, but I'm hoping to give him as well as any other child from middle and lower class families these opportunities," Bruce answered her question honestly.

"Ah, I see what you're doing, and good on you Bruce!" Jack Drake cheered, finally jumping into the conversation. It Bruce had been any less observative, he would have miss the death glare Janet had subtly sent her husband. "Keep those kids out of trouble and we won't have nearly so many delinquents, right?"

"Actually, Mr. Drake, it really is my attempt to help kids get a chance to properly be kids. Preventing delinquency is hardly the cause, and children being bored is only a small percentage of why so many turn to crime," Bruce informed the other CEO.

"Of course, you're right, Bruce," Janet stepped in for damage control, "In fact, the new Recreation Center wouldn't even just be for the middle and lower classes, right? With as much as you're raking in for the donations, it sounds like it would even be a place I wouldn't mind our own son, Timothy, spending his time at. Like a nice little bridge among the youth of Gotham."

"You have a son?" Bruce asked, vaguely remember this small factoid about the Drakes.

"Yes, in fact he's right over there, by the food," Janet informed Bruce as she pointed to a young man standing a few feet away, filling a small plate with finger food. Bruce felt his jaw drop for a brief moment before catching himself and giving his signature 'Brucie' grin.

"I see, maybe you should introduce me to young Mr. Timothy?" Bruce suggested. Janet's eyes lit up at the prospect and immediately called her son over.

"Tim, Tim-dear, our host would like to get to know you some." As Janet spoke the words, Bruce watched as Tim grew tense all over and slowly turned to meet eyes with the head of the manor himself. Instantly Bruce knew two things were fact. One; Timothy Drake was definitely the young boy who saved him a week ago. Two; Timothy definitely knew Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce could see the signs that Tim gulped just before the boy started to shuffle forward. Just as Bruce remembered the boy was small and seemed to be trying to make himself smaller in the presence of Bruce. He had tried to stop just behind his mother, only for Janet to gently guide him forward with an arm around his shoulders. The tension in his shoulder made Bruce want to frown. Tim wasn't used to be touched, even by his own mother.

"It's nice to meet you Timothy," Bruce encouraged the boy to speak.

"I-it's an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne," Tim replied. His voice was weak and if it wasn't for their first meeting in the wear house, Bruce wouldn't have thought the child capable of being assertive. Thankfully he did get a glimpse of what this kid could be if brought out of his shell, and he was starting to get excited by the prospect of helping him do so.

"You know, Tim, your mother and I were just talking about the new Youth Center and she mentioned her hopes that it would be a good place for you to spend your free time around as well," Bruce relayed part of the conversation. Tim gave a nervous glance to his mother before looking back to Bruce.

"We- Ma- I- I hope so too?" Tim seemed at a complete loss for what to say and his stuttering had earned him an exasperated look from Janet. Controlling mother with high standards. Poor lad.

"Well, I just had a thought," Bruce began, "I'm a bit on the graying side of things when it comes to what young people consider fun these days. And I was beginning to worry over what I should do to make sure I didn't build a boring Recreation Center." The Drakes all perked up, each seeming to have an idea where Bruce was going with this. "I think maybe it might be wise for me to take a young intern under my wing to help coordinate the project. What do you say?"

There was a stunned silence before Janet broke into a wide grin. "That would be perfect. Our little Timmy here is actually quiet the little genius, and he has all sorts of friends he can get ideas from! Isn't that right Tim?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Tim was completely bewildered and already seemed to be breathless.

"Then it's settled. Come by my office after school tomorrow and we can get started. Deal?" Bruce asked.

Tim looked Bruce over, scrutinizing every inch of him as if to see if it was a trick. Once Tim seemed to see Bruce was completely genuine about the offer, he broke into a large, childish grin. "Deal!"

And that was the beginning of the end for the unfortunate boy known as Tim Drake.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you guys didn't mind the shift in tones, but I what I did to Tim's character, it just felt like I had to properly introduce him while he was at his most innocent, ya know? I'm bouncing between making the next chapter an extension on this one, showing Tim getting to know Damian, or breaking up these types of chapters up with more fluff and filler pieces like chapters one through four. As I type this, I can already guess which on most, if not all, of you are going to cry out for.

Alright, that's that for now. I hope I did right by ya'll.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Yay Tim!'. I'll accept it.)


	6. Bound With Regret

**A/N:** My deepest apologies for what you are about to read. But you _did_ ask for it...

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick-11 Cassandra-15 Jason-16 Tim-18 Stephanie-18 Damian-24

Tim-12 Damian-18 Stephanie-13

* * *

Chapter Five: Bound With Regret

When he came to, Shadowbat didn't even have to open his eyes to know just how disadvantageous the situation was. There was enough dust in the air to choke a worm, he was laying flat on his back, and there was a pounding in his head that seemed to be keeping in time with his heart. He took a second to try and remember what had just happened a moment before he blacked out. Shadowbat remembered sneaking into the compound, finding Luthor's hard drive, setting the virus, then there was an alarm, flying bullets, worried Spoiler over the com, explosion, and then the building collapsed around Shadowbat.

"Hey, Shadow, are you responsive? You're breathing's changed, but I need you to say something." Oh yeah, how could Damian forget? He had run into Timothy along the way.

"I'm alert," Shadowbat groundout. As he spoke, his head pounded a little harder. He opened an eye to see that Timothy had removed the hideous helmet that he insisted on calling his 'hood'. He had run into Red Hood as the heroic rouge (or would it be villainous hero?) had just set a few charges of C4 in the upper floors, and was trying to leave before he got caught up in the blast. Apparently, they both had the idea to go after Luthor's underground weapon's trade just off Gotham port. Unfortunately, as they both refuse to talk to each other more than they deem necessary, they didn't tell the other of their plans. Thus, Timothy had to drag Damian just outside of the blast radius of the c4 down the stairwell, because his earlier planned escape route was full of gun shooting minions that Damian had ruffled up.

"The stairwell is completely caved in, we're lucky we weren't crushed- hey lay down, you idiot! You have a head wound! It could be a concussion," Timothy growled at the older Bat. Damian just gave him a look and Tim scoffed and sneered. "Well, forget then. There was about as much as I'm willing to worry about you. If you don't care then neither do I."

"I'm more concerned with you," Damian changed the topic, "You didn't sustain any injury, did you?"

"Pfft, like you actually care," Tim scoffed again and leaned back against the rubble.

"I do care, actually. Now, status report, have you sustained any injuries?"

"Screw you."

"Fine, then I guess I don't care!"

"See? Told you."

"Of for the love of-!" Damian threw his hands in the air and gave up. The two feel into an uncomfortable silence for a bit after that. Timothy seemed to be trying to find a way out of there while Damian fiddled with his GPS. A small part of him bitterly remembered once getting on Timothy's case for relying too much on technology. Back when he wasn't Timothy, but 'Drake'.

Suddenly, breaking the silence and subsequently his self-pitty-party, Damian's earpiece came to life and Stephanie's panicked voice cried out to him.

"Shadowbat! Can you hear me?" It was loud and startling, causing Damian to flinch a little and thus snapping Timothy's attention to him.

Rolling his eyes, Damian put a finger to his ear as a sign to Red Hood that he was speaking to someone on his com. "I'm here, and you're loud."

"Thank God!" Stephanie sighed in relief and Damian could hear her typing on the Batcomputer. Brown had injured herself just a few days ago and was currently grounded to the cave until her leg was fully healed. Which left Spoiler stuck in the cave and unable to help. "I need a status report, now. The building just exploded and you suddenly switched to a different channel. Do you know how scary it is to hear a big 'boom' and then suddenly static? The answer is: very!"

"I can imagine. I ran into Red Hood trying to get out. Seems he had a different plan to get rid of Luthor." As Damian spoke, Timothy threw a dark glare over at him. Damian ignored him and sat against a heavily damaged concrete wall. Seriously, was Red Hood trying to take out the building or the block? "I may have a slight concussion, Hood seems unharmed, we're trapped underground, and I cannot stress enough how little time we may have left before the situation gets dire."

"Cause you and Hood will kill each other?" Stephanie guessed.

"Because we are two fully grown men in a small, enclosed space with limited air," Damian corrected.

"You mean because we'll likely kill each other?" Timothy added his two cents. Damian shot him a mild glare. He knew full well that the two couldn't hear each other and it was more and more obvious that they shared a brain. Damian just wished that they would stop proving it every chance they had, especially when there was no way they could tell that they were doing it!

"I'll get a hold of Batman and Robin," Stephanie assured him.

"Good. Keep me informed," Damian instructed before turning to Timothy. "Rescue is on the way."

"What's their ETA?" Timothy asked.

"No clue," Damian admitted. Timothy huffed before he slammed himself back against the opposite wall as Damian and slid down.

"Just great. A nice little reunion with Daddy Bats, just what I needed today," Timothy growled out.

Damian raised a brow at that. "You didn't seem to mind it a month ago when you came to help Robin with his homework."

Timothy scoffed, "That wasn't about Batman. It was about Robin. If you don't remember, I hardly acknowledged B."

Damian did think back on it. Timothy was right, not once did he see his younger brother even so much as glance at his father. Timothy probably did that so Richard wouldn't see Timothy's reflexive glare that he obtained whenever Father was in his line of sight.

Watching said younger brother, Damian couldn't help but frown. Now that a new silence had begun, and the immediate threat of having to deal with Batman was upon him, Timothy had begun to murmur to himself. It wasn't an uncommon sight, but a very unwelcome one. And one that Damian knew was pretty much his fault. Seeing the habitual reflex when faced with a stressful environment, it made Damian's stomach drop and sent him back in time to when he first met the man sitting across from him.

* * *

Damian was livid. He drove up to the manor's gravel drive in his motorcycle with such a fury that he purposefully sent rocks skitting when he came to a stop. He barely even managed to get his helmet off by the time he was pounding on the door. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now, but like hell was he going to miss his chance to punch something by just striding on in. Even if he was only 'punching' a solid wood door.

When the door swung open Damian was face to face with a disgruntled Pennyworth. For once, Damian didn't care how upset the butler was, he was going to demand answers from his father about the abomination he had just seen on TV. Therefore, not caring how many rules of etiquette he was breaking, the young man made to stomp past Pennyworth toward the study. He stopped short when he caught a glimpse of someone at the top of the staircase. The damning evidence of his father's most recent betrayal.

"Who is that?!" Damian demanded, shoving a pointed finger up toward a young boy. A boy that had the same dark hair and light eyes as Damian's father.

"Master Damian, I really must implore you to calm yourself. Master Bruce will be up shortly and I would be delighted to-"

"Silence! I didn't ask about my father! I asked about that _thing_ up there!" Damian shouted at the top of his lungs, making sure to certain words. He wanted that boy to know how unwelcome he truly was. He wanted to make certain that the vermin knew that Bruce Wayne already had a son, a _true_ son.

"Master Timothy will be staying with us indefinitely while the situation with his parents is being settled," Pennyworth tried once more to talk Damian down from his tantrum. It wasn't working. Damian was purposefully being difficult because he didn't _want_ to be talked down. He wanted his father to apologize for the mistreatment, not go shopping for a new, more obedient son! He wanted to be recognized by his father with pride, not as a replaceable unit in his messed up life.

Yet, here Damian was, glaring death at the very proof he needed to know that his father never really loved, or cared for him. He might have fallen for the lie once, but now that he was disillusioned he was going to make certain that the boy before him would not be as mistaken. If Bruce Wayne couldn't be bothered to care for his own true heir and only blood son, then this riffraff was better left on the shelf. Damian proceeded to exhaust his vocabulary to let the trash know exactly that.

Pennyworth had tried to get Damian to stop. Even Damian's father had tried to intervene when he had finally emerged from his cave. Nothing was preventing Damian's malicious words from slicing into the boy except the failures of his own imagination when he had officially run out of things to say. The boy was in tears, and Damian made sure to comment on that too before he stormed out, and sped off into the night.

A couple weeks passed. Drake - as Damian had come to call the interloper - lost his parents during the event that led to him staying in Wayne Manor. There was buzz about Gotham whether Bruce was going to adopt Timothy Drake or not. Damian's father had to make a public statement that he couldn't, Drake's father was still alive, though in a coma. Drake tried to reach out to Damian and make peace during this same time. Damian responded with scathing words and some _very_ unnecessary remarks about the boy's parents. Drake never tried to approach him again.

A couple of months past and all interaction between the two were left in costume with a chaperone. Even Batgirl, a moniker held by Stephanie Brown at the time, knew better than to leave the two in a room alone together. Damian hated watching the other's interact with the 'new Nightling'. His father seemed to actually _talk_ to the boy in a way that he never did with Damian. Brown seemed utterly smitten with the boy, which while it made sense with them being the same age, felt like she was choosing the usurper over the original! She was one of his closest friends and yet she was conversing much more smoothly with the younger boy than she and Damian ever did.

A few years later, and Damian finally screws up. Batman was off world with the Justice League, leaving Gotham City to Shadowbat, Batgirl, and Nightling. The three split up for the night, each taking a controlled portion of the city to patrol and watch after. Shadowbat's area was quiet. Not so much as a mugging to occupy him. Batgirl had a jewelry store break-in, three muggings, and a bar brawl to break up. Nightling was having a similar night as Shadowbat at first until he called over the com about what he first perceived as a small riot. Later he corrected himself to say it was a gang assault on a woman. Then there was a request for back up as the gang itself had called reinforcements came to the gang's aid. Batgirl was still in the middle of pacifying the brawl and deferred Nightling's request to the eldest.

Shadowbat claimed to be busy.

He was sitting on a roof watching the empty street in front of a random bank and he claimed he was too busy. He could have easily gone to Nightling's aid. He could have easily helped the boy and taken a dangerous gang off the streets. Maybe he and Nightling might have gotten along a little better by the end of it. Maybe Damian would have used the night as an example as to why the boy was inadequate as a hero. There were too many 'maybe's. What actually happened was that Nightling went missing.

It took six months of constantly searching, and even more estrangement from not only his father but the girl he had come to think of as a little sister, before they were able to find any clues as to where Timothy went. It wasn't good news. Everything pointed to the Joker. It was only when they were looking for the Joker that they were even able to find clues about Timothy. The more the picture came together, the worse Damian felt. Being held prisoner by the Joker was something Damian wouldn't have wished upon his worst enemy. Yet, he damned his own brother to such a fate. His simple act of rejection came with tremendously disastrous consequences.

The three older heroes managed to locate Joker's hideout. They had split up for a time while searching for any signs of Joker or Timothy. Later Damian's father told them about the disturbing video Joker made him watch of Timothy's torture. Joker bragged at having captured one of the Bat's little birds, at how he was able to hold the bird for 183 days, and break him in 128. Joker knew of Batman's identity after having tortured a thirteen-year-old boy for little over four months straight.

When the three finally converged in a 'living room' made up in the middle of the abandoned studio with props and set walls, they were greeted by Harley Quinn and her Puddin', Joker. The bats demanded to know what they had done with Nightling, but that only launched the two clowns into a prepared monolog about wanting to start a family of their own. How Harley didn't want to get pregnant and their doubt that there would be any adoption agency dumb enough to give two criminally psychotic lunatics a child. The pieces fell together into a picture none of the bats wanted to face. They weren't given a choice when Harley Quinn and Joker finally brought out their little 'Joker Jr', JJ for short.

It was Timothy, strapped to a gurney, dead eyes, pale skin, grotesquely stretched smile. Batgirl already had tears down her face, Batman was stone statue still, and Shadowbat nearly vomited. He did this. Yes, it was Joker that actually committed the crime, but it was Shadowbat who allowed it.

Harley took advantage of their shock and shot a gaudily designed bola out of the vacuum she had been pretending to clean with, effectively tying them together for the moment. With the heroes tied up, Joker began to laugh and jeer.

"Oh no! Batman and his friends are captured!" Joker gasped. "This may spell the end for them. That is unless someone comes to their aid!" With that Joker pressed a button on the gurney, undoing all the straps that held JJ to the table. "Oh dear me! It looks like JJ has gotten loose! Surely he will jump at the chance to save Batman and co!" JJ did jump. The little Joker look-alike began to giggle something horrifying and started to hop from one foot to the other, throwing his arms in the air repeatedly as he did so. Joker and Harley just smiled on like a pair of proud parents as their little boy danced and played.

"Come now, JJ!" Joker called to his 'son', "Why don't you help Papa Joker? It'll be a nice little 'father/son' bonding time!" JJ stopped dancing and looked over to Joker as if to assess the offer. Not once did the painful grin slip from his face. Deciding on joining his 'Papa Joker', JJ gave a giggle and dashed over to Joker with his arms out. The entire display played out like a parody of an actual 'father/son' relationship. Like bad theater. "That's my boy, JJ!"

While the scene played before them, and Harley Quinn was distracted by her 'dream family', the three heroes had all discreetly cut away at their bonds. As soon as the rope tying them together was weak enough, they broke away and attacked. Shadowbat and Batgirl both took to Harley, having each learned not to get in the middle of a fight between Batman and Joker a long time ago.

As for Batman, He had to not only deal with Joker but with JJ as well. It was perturbing as Joker had put a gun in JJ's hands and aimed the boy's arms straight at Batman. Instantly, JJ pulled the trigger, causing Batman to falter his steps. All that came from the barrel was a tiny flag with the word 'bang'. The misdirection worked as Joker had already launched himself at Batman and was wailing on him, having cheated his way into the advantage.

Shadowbat and Batgirl managed to get Harley down and restrained just in time to see JJ re-aim the gun at the two fighting men. It was in slow motion for Damian as he watched Timothy lift the gun and point it straight at Batman. The look of seer anguish that could be seen behind the maddened eyes will forever be branded to Damian's brain. The look Timothy had, unable to stop grinning despite the excruciating pain that was evident in all his other features, conveyed too loudly the fight going on in his mind. Damian could see a weakened, but stubborn, part of Timothy still remained and refused to shoot his mentor. The stronger, and insane part of JJ wasn't making it easy for the boy to stop himself and in the end, it seemed the two personalities compromised.

And JJ shot Joker.

There was a pause in everyone's movements. Joker, stunned, looked down to see the sharp steak of the joke-flag sticking out of his chest. With a startled chuckle, the clown's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he pitched forward. No one caught him. No one tried. They just let his body fall graclessly to the floor. It wasn't until they heard the clatter of the gun that any of them could move. Timothy fell to his knees, laughing and sobbing in ways that _sounded_ painful. Stephanie quickly made her way to his side, nearly bumping into Damian's father as Batman tried to stop the Joker from bleeding out. A first he thought it was a sign of how messed up his father's priorities were, but once he took a second to think it over, he understood. Batman wasn't trying to save the Joker, Bruce Wayne was trying to save the innocence of his son. None of them wanted Timothy to be a murderer. None of them wanted to let Joker turn their Timothy into a murderer. Even if it meant saving that rotten bastard's life.

Damian was still. He watched as his father and pseudo-sister cleaned up his mess. Joker went to the hospital under heavy sedation. Harley went straight to Arkham, screaming for her Puddin' the entire way. Batman, Batgirl, and Shadowbat took their missing bird home. That should have been the end of it.

It wasn't. JJ was still there, and he was still stronger than Timothy. Slowly, they were able to get him to settle down. One thing they learned immediately was never let Damian in the boy's line of sight. Pennyworth had just given the recovering teen his dinner when Damian tried to approach him. Damian didn't get past the doorway before the teen was in a fit. Everything that was within his reach was thrown, there was screaming, crying, and laughter. It was from then on made a rule that Damian wasn't allowed anywhere near Timothy.

That wasn't all. Father seemed to be a trigger for the boy as well. However, while Damian incited the boy to attack, Father would cause the boy to self-harm. It was nearly systematic the way it would happen too; as if Joker purposefully programmed it into Timothy's head during the months he was captured. The ways Timothy would self-harm weren't small, either. It was as if Joker wanted Nightling to kill himself if he was ever left alone with Batman. Bandages and stitches lined Timothy's forearms and thighs.

Not even two weeks after getting their Nightling back, the bat-family had to face the grim reality. Timothy needed professional help. With that, they begrudgingly check Timothy into Arkham.

Stephanie and Pennyworth went to visit Timothy every chance they could. In the end, it only lasted another month before Timothy managed to swipe enough opioids to overdose. The staff couldn't explain it. The Bats figured it was hisNightling training and desperation to 'get rid' of JJ.

* * *

That seemed the end for Timothy. Damian frowned as he looked over the young man across from him. The little brother he rejected, sacrificed, and then lost. The genius who had his mind ripped apart by three evil men. Damian included himself in that list. Timothy seemed to sense the older man staring at him as he stopped muttering to himself and glared back.

"What?!" He snapped.

"Nothing, not really," Damian responded, "Just remembering-" Damian let himself trail off there. This was a dangerous subject with Timothy, and he knew it full well. Still, he felt drawn to it, if only to break the deafening silence.

"Well, stop it," Timothy growled, "There's nothing that needs remembering."

"Funny, you're usually the one who brings up the past the most," Damian huffed. Timothy's glare intensified, but he otherwise backed down. Damian could see the shifting in his eyes as if there was a conversation being held that Damian couldn't hear. It wouldn't surprise him. By all rights, Timothy should be dead. Yet he beat every odd and was now the broken man before him.

"What now!" Timothy's sudden wail yanked Damian out of his thought.

"Nothing!" Damian defended himself.

"No, there's something! You're pulling that 'pity' face you get when you remember how big of an ass you were back then," Timothy screamed at him. His eyes were alight with fury. "Oh the things you 'should' have done differently, the things you 'should' have said, the gestures you 'should' have made. Maybe if you were this perfect big brother that you're trying to be for Jay or Dick, I wouldn't have come out so f#&*ed up!" This was tail-spinning toward an extremely bad place faster than Damian could navigate out of it.

"Is it not true?" Damian asked. Timothy was shaking now as his eyes never left Damian's. There was a beat of silence before Damian remembered that silence was bad when Timothy got like this. It gave 'JJ' time to twist the younger man's thoughts. "I have my regrets. There is no denying that. However, I am fully aware that I cannot undo the damage I have done. I cannot 'fix' this. All I _can_ do is learn from it and do right by Jason and Richard." Yes, he was aware that he was using names in the field, but with how Timothy was behaving, it was necessary to remind his younger brother that he no longer distanced himself from others with the same subtle slight as he used to.

"Yeah, learn from the screw-up," Timothy muttered darkly as he seemed to settle back down. He was obviously still furious, but it seemed Damian had somehow navigated his way around Timothy's mood swings. He then made the mistake of sighing in relief at the sight of Timothy backing down. Suddenly Red Hood was on him again.

The unhinged brother had thrown himself forward, switchblade exposed in his right hand, knife pressed to Damian's throat, all within the moment of Damian having sighed. "You really want to f**king go?"

"What the- Get a hold of yourself!" Damian cried out.

"Come on, 'Big Bro'. Say what you're thinking already." Damian' had to fight not to gulp. Red Hood's mouth was in a dark, twisted smile. A sure sign that Timothy was steadily slipping into JJ.

"Timothy, you need to reevaluate what you're doing," Damian tried to get Hood to relax again by using his given name. It didn't help. Hood just pressed the knife harder into the side of Damian's neck.

"Say it!" Hood demanded, "You wish I had stayed dead! Just say it!" _So that's where JJ took his brother's thoughts_.

"I can't," Damian replied defiantly, "It wouldn't be true."

"Shut up! We both know you hated me from the very start! You saw that I was too weak! You knew I was worthless the moment you set your eyes on me!" With each word, Tim's smile grew, as did the pain in his eyes, which began to fill with tears. "You knew I couldn't keep a secret, you knew I was a waste of Bruce's time and that I would only betray the family. Well, I did, and now you wish I had really died back then!"

"No. It was a relief to find out that you weren't dead. I wish you hadn't been kidnapped by my grandfather in the first place," Damian tried to correct his younger brother.

"Shut- just- j- just shut up!" Tears were now slipping from Timothy's eyes and down his red mask and his voice was wavering. "You- you hate me. Bruce loathes me. Dick's afraid of me. Jason- Jay-, he, he-" Damian knew Timothy couldn't find anything to say about Jason. The third of Bruce Wayne's sons had hero-worshipped Timothy all the way back to when the second Nightling had first appeared in the silver cape. It was Jason who brought Timothy back to the family all those years ago. It was because of Jason that Timothy stayed.

"Jason adores you," Damian filled in the blank for Timothy. Timothy, for his part, seemed lost at the very concept that someone could 'adore' him. "Yes, Richard is intimidated by you, by me too. Even Pennyworth gets to him from time to time, he's a timid child - when he's not being boisterously obnoxious and impetuous." Really, Richard had two settings for everyone for the first twenty hours he spent with them. After that, there was no getting him to think twice before doing something outrageously foolhardy and Damian was beginning to miss the days when just being in the same room as the kid made Richard quiet.

"And you?" Timothy challenged. "Here's where you tell me about how you really love me and accept me and whatever else kind of crap that you can think up to try and incite warm-fuzzies, right?"

"I'm impressed by you," Damian said instead. That caught Timothy off guard.

"What?"

"I'm impressed. Everything you've gone through, everything you've endured. Not once did you blame someone who didn't deserve it. Not Pennyworth, not Jason, nor Richard. Not a single one of the girls. You never let your - honestly rather justified - anger go too far. Even when you did attack Father and me." Damian watched as slowly, a bit more clarity came back to Timothy's features. "I'm impressed by the skills you've honed, you're methodical nature, and your ability to lead even those who claim they won't trust you. You've achieved so much despite all your hurt it's inspiring." As Damian finished speaking he could see the flitting of Timothy's eyes as he fought his own internal battle.

Finally deeming it time to take the risk, Damian slowly lifted his hand to gently grab the one holding the knife to his throat. "That's why I know, if you take a second to think about it, you'll decide against killing me." Timothy's eyes bulged and snapped toward his right hand.

Immediately, as if the switch-blade had suddenly burned him, Timothy dropped the knife with a gasp and threw himself back toward the other wall. The entire time staring at his hand as if it weren't his own. JJ, most likely. Damian watched as Timothy began to hyperventilate, tears streaming freely from his eyes as he held his hand away from him. He even held his left hand tightly in a vice grip around the offending appendage as if his right hand was about to attack him next.

Not knowing what else to do, and probably having his mild concussion to think for his foolishness, Damian moved quickly. Before he even realized what he was doing, he took Timothy's right hand in his own and wrapped the other around his younger brother's shoulders. "Breathe, Tim. Breathe," he instructed.

Timothy's breath hitched at being called 'Tim' by Damian, and possibly by reflex, his right hand gripped Damian's tight. "Get off of me! Leave me the hell alone!" Timothy shouted. Despite saying this, however, Timothy's other arm snaked around Damian's back, holding the older brother in place.

They sat like that for a while. Timothy kept sobbing, and cursing, demanding Damian let him go, holding tightly to the other the entire time. Damian endured the verbal onslaught and held Timothy close as his little brother bawled. Slowly he began to feel his legs shake from how he sat on his knees too long. Thankfully, Timothy calmed down before Damian's legs gave out.

When the vice grip around him fell away, Damian moved slowly to sit next to Timothy. Not close enough that they were touching anymore, but he could definitely feel the body heat from the younger man. Silence took over again, but for the first time, it was a tolerable one. Neither seemed to want to break it.

The option was taken from their hands when Shadowbat's com came to life in his ear. "Shadow?"

"Spoiler?" Damian acknowledged the young woman. "What's the news?"

"Robin and Batgirl are at your location, they're trying to dig you two out now. Nightling should be on his way," Stephanie informed him easily.

"And Batman?" Damian asked, wondering why he was left out of the report.

"Giving Red Hood some space," Stephanie replied. Damian chanced a glance over to Timothy. The younger man was looking away from him so Damian couldn't see his eyes, but he could see that Red Hood was trying to wipe away his face discreetly.

"Probably a good idea," Damian decided. Timothy didn't need to deal with their father in the state he was in at the moment.

"How's your status? Try to kill each other yet?" Stephanie asked with a light-hearted tone. However, Damian could easily hear the legitimate worry underneath. She's not an idiot. She knows the kind of damage done to Timothy.

"Everything's fine here. A screaming match, so we're probably low on air," Damian admitted partially. She didn't need to know about the knife. It didn't even break skin. After that Stephanie left the two alone again. A few minutes later they could hear voices and scrapping from above them as the three youngest of the family dug their older brothers out.

"Hey," Timothy called over to Damian.

"Yes?"

"Don't tell them about any of this." Damian looked over to Timothy to see his younger brother glaring at the opposite wall.

"What part? Nothing happened," Damian 'reminded' Timothy. "We screamed insults at each other for a bit and then sat in uncomfortable silence." Timothy's shoulders relaxed at that and nothing else was said. They didn't need to acknowledge it. There was no point.

Fresh air started to gust through the small room and Damian looked up to see Robin's grinning face greeting the two. "Need unearthing?"

"You're late," Damian gruffed before standing up. As he moved toward the hole his younger siblings made, he saw Timothy put his helmet back on. There was a pain in his chest in the realization that this didn't change a single thing between the two of them. Timothy would never trust Damian. He will always resent Both Damian and his father. But this time, this one time, Damian finally got to do right by Timothy. By Tim.

The rest played out like it had so many times in the past couple of years. Robin boisterously recanted the tale of how he and the others saved the day. Nightling was sure to interject whenever he felt it was necessary to remind everyone that he was the real brains and skill of the outfit, not to mention prove he was the better story-teller. Batgirl, a moniker now held by their legal sister Cassandra Cain, simply stood back as her brothers sang their own praises, nodding along with the story supportively. After that, Shadowbat led the younger bats and birds back to the cave, while Red Hood made his way back to the Bowery.

Only Jason said Good-bye. Tim didn't even acknowledge it.

"Why do you say 'bye'? He never responds?" Robin asked Nightling.

Nightling shrugged, "because he needs me to."

Batgirl just nodded her head in agreement.

And like that, the night was over. Nothing had changed. No new lessons had been learned. No redemption was earned. But finally a proper memory, a fundamental memory, was made.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know this one was sad! BUT I WARNED YOU! Tim's story isn't finished yet either. Our poor Timbo has one more chapter before anyone can say they know what's going on with our poor broken birdie. I'll give you a hint. Ra's never took in Jason. ;)

Hey! We got to see Cas and Steph! So there doesn't seem to be a definite canon on whether Cassandra is older or younger than Jason, but it seems most popular that she is older than him. So of course, that means she's younger than him here. Same issue with Steph and Tim. Though while it's popular that she's older than him, I figured it would make more sense for this story if she was older, though just by a few months.

I had to go back to check the curse words I might have used. I'm not used to limiting myself to only 'Clean' language, and it's proving harder than I thought. So I may be raising the age rating on this soon.

I cannot tell you how many times I had to go back and write 'Timothy' instead of 'Tim' cause I'm so used to just plain old 'Tim'. Sometimes Damian proves to be rather difficult to write for.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Oh Noes! Tim!'. I'll accept it.)


	7. There IS No JJ

**A/N:** Sorry I haven't been adding in a while. I had some car troubles and had to spend the past two weeks living with my mother just so I had a reliable ride to work in the morning. Thank goodness we work in the same building with similar schedules. But now I have a brand new (as in 2018 new YAY!) car and can go back to living my own grown-up life with my fanfiction and comic books! ((I'm my little brother's hero cause our parents say I'm doing them proud as a responsible adult and yet I still have yet to 'grow-up' in terms of my interests.))

Also, side note. Did nobody else catch on that I miscounted the chapters? lol, I accidentally put two chapter 'four's and put 'Chapter five' over Chapter six. I nearly put this as 'chapter six' until I caught my mistake. Oh well.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason-15 Tim-17 Damian-23

* * *

Chapter Seven: There _Is_ No JJ

Ra's was sitting by the grand fireplace, calmly sipping a cup of tea as he listened to his guards. They were trying to fight off an intruder just outside of his chambers. The fools were shouting about, forgetting they were supposed to be ninja and thus die in silence. How fortunate for them that the intruder had no intention to kill a single one of them.

No, Red Hood didn't kill. His methods were far more sinister. Pain was his tool of choice. Understandable, considering that it was through pain he was forged. Death was something that had been mercilessly denied the young man. He was not one to offer it to those who dared cross him. In a way, Ra's respected that.

Now the doors to his chamber opened. Red Hood strode into the room and closed the door behind him in a way that would almost insist the room actually belonged to him. It was a striking contrast to the violent sounds of battle that alerted Ra's to the boy's visit. Something only Timothy Drake-Wayne could get away with. And the boy knew it.

Without so much as a hint of hesitation, Timothy made his way to the wing-backed chair on the other side of the in-table from Ra's and sat himself down. There was a bit of wiggling in place as the vigilante made a show of getting comfortable before he then reached up and removed his helmet. From the dents and gashes in the piece of armor Ra's had to wonder if Timothy was even bothering to try and dodge attacks aimed at his head. He suspected he already answered his own question.

"Detective," Ra's greeted. The young man had long since earned the title.

"Ra's," Timothy greeted back.

"May I ask what brings this unexpected visit?" It wouldn't be the first time Timothy came to the League of Assassins for information, or even for a random chest match. Really Ra's saw a clearer second-generation Batman in Red Hood than he did in his own Grandson.

Timothy seemed to think about how he wanted to phrase his request. It was one of those things that proved the boy's intelligence. He knew how he said things mattered even more than what it was he had to say. "I suppose you could say I felt sentimental."

This took Ra's by surprise, and he let it show with a raise of his brow. "Oh?"

"I've been thinking a lot about my past. How my life came to this point," Timothy explained. "Meeting Bruce, suffering your grandson, being brain-washed by Joker-"

Timothy trailed off and Ra's faced him to see Timothy was looking at him with a seriousness that told Ra's where the boy was going with this. "I see."

"Ra's, I think it's time we talked about my missing memories," Timothy demanded.

"I suppose it is," Ra's agreed. It wasn't a conversation he had been avoiding. In fact, it was Timothy who had been afraid. A closely guarded secret that Ra's, Talia, and Timothy had managed to keep to themselves, was the fact that between a random day in Arkham Asylum and a random day in his training with the League of Assassins was utter darkness for him.

"You said you weren't surprised," Tim started in on it. "When I was in the Asylum I was constantly being attacked by voices and had trouble controlling my own actions. Blacking out and waking up in a straight jacket because I apparently attacked an orderly or few. Next thing I remember is coming back to myself in the middle of sparing with Prudence."

"Yes, and after having come back to yourself the voices had dulled and you were more in control of yourself," Ra's finished for him. "I found it particularly endearing that you tried to keep the realization to yourself."

"How." Timothy's voice was curt and stoic, or at least attempted to be. "How did I get from point A to point B in this story Ra's. What happened during that time I was out?"

"It's been over a year, Detective, what has changed your mind now? You cannot expect me to believe it to be mere nostalgia?" Ra's gave a suspicious look to the boy.

"You already know the reason," Timothy gave a mild glare back to Ra's, "And if by some miracle you don't, then I don't believe I should tell you."

"I'm hardly 'All-knowing', Timothy, though I must say the implication is flattering." Ra's smirked over at the boy. "I learn my secrets from informants all around. You yourself have proven to be a reliable source of information from time to time."

"When I'm willing to share. This isn't one of those times, Ra's," Timothy insisted. "Now, let's start from the beginning. I was in Arkham,-"

Timothy trailed off on purpose so that Ra's could start where he was leaving off. Well, if the boy was going to be so considerate, then why not indulge him?

"Alright, you were in the middle of drooling over yourself and I sent in one of my own to pose as an orderly at that place of madness," Ra's began. "Following my orders, they gave you an injection of Tetrodatropa; an ingenious concoction that utilizes both the Atropa belladonna plant and the tetrodotoxin of the puffer to mimic a death of opioid overdose. The main difference between the two being that with a controlled dosage, Tetrodatropa won't kill the one affected."

Tim frowned and looked to be in deep thought for a moment. Ra's knew he was going back over everything he knew of the two poisons. "But you'd still need an antidote or some type of catalyst to wake the victim up."

Ra's couldn't help but smirk. Leave it to the young Detective to catch on to that part. "And I will be keeping the antidote's secret to myself. It's hardly important to the story any-"

"Active Carbon," Timothy interrupted Ra's. Ra's had to snap his attention back to the boy. Timothy gave him a smug look after having figured out the rather simple answer.

"Impressive, but as I was saying, not relevant to your question, now is it?" That silenced the boy well enough and Ra's got back to it. "After the incompetent doctors of the Asylum misdiagnosed you with opioid overdose, and then prematurely announced your death, I had those same agents bring your body here where I woke you. You were still a mostly maddened state of mind. Talia and I took you in as an almost pet project. We continued your training that your mentor had started and looked after your growth. This much you already knew. What you never cared to remember, however, was the mental therapy that was needed to get you back to what sanity we could manage."

Timothy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Joker's torture lead to my mind creating a whole other personality that was capable of doing what he wanted. To be a son for a madman. That's not something a bit of therapy can fix. You had to have done something, else." Timothy looked up at Ra's with a scrutinizing look. "It's that something else that I didn't particularly want to know about."

"It's true. Our methods of putting you back together were, unorthodox. They still worked when nothing else would," Ra's reminded Timothy. Timothy gave him a hard look. Ra's gave it back. He knew that it wasn't he that Timothy was trying to fight in this conversation, it was his own morals. Before, Timothy was fully aware that the only way for a split personality to be repaired in the few months that Ra's had the boy, magic would have had to be involved. And Ra's did not have any qualms about dark magic, so long as it had the desired effect.

"Ra's. How long did you wait to throw me into the pit?" Timothy's voice was steady, but his gaze wondered Ra's' face. It was as if he was hoping he was wrong. But he wasn't.

"I didn't." Timothy's eyes found the rug at the confession. His features morphed into a furious expression as he mulled over the implications.

"The real question, Detective, is why you continue to allow your family to believe the other personality still lives?" Ra's raised a brow as the boy searched the floor for his response.

"Because it's easier," Timothy explained, "In this messed up family, it's easier to understand a second, more murderous personality than it is to understand the more complex reality." Ra's didn't need to ask about that 'complex reality'. In a rather pathetic way, Timothy was right. Not one of the others even entertained the thought that their damaged bird might have something as typical as 'PTSD' in place of something so bizarre as 'Multiple Personality Disorder'. With the world Batman had immersed himself, he was now unfortunately trained to go to the extreme instead of the simplistic answers.

"I see." The two then fell into silence again. Timothy's question was answered, for the most part. He already knew that Ra's only tried to help him in order to use him as leverage against Batman, which failed when Timothy proved to be too clever for Ra's to try and manipulate. Before he threw Timothy into the pit, the boy's dual personalities played off each other and prevented either from being manipulated by an outside individual.

"There was more than the pit, wasn't there?" Timothy finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Ra's answered.

"I'm going to need to know what else had been done to me." The boy's voice was growing weaker, more uncertain.

"You need this, but do you want it?" Ra's inquired, already suspecting the answer. Timothy sighed but didn't reply. The young detective simply shifted back into his seat and looked to Ra's. From the look he gave, he had managed to reassure himself somehow and seemed more intent to learn what he came to find out than when he had first arrived. Ra's had to smile at that. Yet again, Timothy proved he wasn't the wasted investment Talia seemed to believe he was. "Very well."

* * *

Tim tried his best not to shake as he got on the plane to leave. He had stolen one of Batman's, not having had a better way to get to Ra's hideout. Of course, he had to fight his way out the same as he had to fight his way in. Ra's way of constantly testing him. And Bruce would say he was nothing like the immortal jerk.

Ra's had given him a lot to think about, things he really didn't want to but really didn't have much of a choice. He needed to know this, and he had run out of excuses for avoiding it. It didn't help that he had other heroes breathing down his neck about it. Dr. Fate, Zatara, Jason Blood, Raven, and even some villains; such as Cillian and Enchantress.

Of course, Tim wasn't one to just bend over for others when it suited them. No, the real reason Tim decided it was time was because he now had a responsibility. He was now an older brother himself. If he wanted to do right by his new younger brother Jason, and not fall into the same or even worse trappings as Damian had, then it was his obligation to know just what kind of dangers his rehabilitation could eventually pose for his family.

Still, his motives didn't help cleanse the feeling of being a stranger in his own skin. Really, it was amazing how messed up his life had managed to become in the few short years since he met Bruce Wayne live and in person.

Really, how unlucky could a guy get?

* * *

 **A/N:** So I really was in the air on what kind of relationship I wanted Tim and Ra's to have. If I wanted the same one as Ra's and Jason or the canon one that Tim and Ra's seemed to have in the comics. But when I sat down to think it over a bit, I decided that Ra's must think of himself as a fourth father to Tim, the first being Jack Drake, the second being Bruce Wayne, and the Third being Joker. Ra's sees himself as the completer of the group project that is Timothy Drake-Wayne, and therefore tends to be the closest to Tim in terms of emotional relativity. Isn't _that_ sad?

This should complete the Tim Drake trilogy of Pecking Order. I'm going to go back to some more fun time filler chapters as I plot out who we get an in-depth look at next.

Hope you enjoyed this look into Tim!

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'The Heck? Tim!'. I'll accept it.)


	8. Convincing Disguises prt 1

**A/N:** I'M ALIVE! I am so sorry for the year-long break on all my writing. I could give my long list of excuses but tbh, I don't really want to. The good news is, with allergy season, I tend to write more cause it's all I have the energy for. So let's see how long this stretch lasts!

This is a two-parter and I haven't started the other part yet. So, warning I guess.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Barb-9 Dick-11 Steph-18

* * *

Chapter Eight: Convincing Disguises prt 1

"No, I'm not doing it!"

"Comm'on, Dick, do you really think you have a choice?" Stephanie sighed as she tightened the ropes holding the eleven-year-old in place.

"This is cruel and unusual torment!" Dick shouted as he tried to fight his restraints.

"Take it up with B, he's the one who made the plan," Steph pointed out as she grabbed his chin with a firm hand and brought the pencil up to Dick's eye with the other. "Now keep still or I'm going to end up poking your eye out, and look upwards."

"I get that I need to be unrecognizable, but why do I have to dress as a girl?" Dick whined as he did as he was instructed.

"Because we're infiltrating a beauty pageant," Stephanie reminded the boy.

"You're going, why can't you be the contestant?"

"Because the perp has been going after girls ages Thirteen and below." Steph finished with the eyeliner and moved to grab something else from the table behind her. "Close your eyes, not too tight."

"Then how about Barbara? She's almost done with her training, right? Can't she be the bait?" Dick could feel a brush gently tickling his closed eyelids as Steph colored them.

"First, she isn't done with her training. She won't be until sometime next year. Next, she's too young, she doesn't even look eleven. Lastly, why you would suggest we put a nine-year-old in a position to be kidnapped by a human trafficker? Shame. Shame on your family. Shame on your cow."

"It's 'dishonor on your cow'."

"That too." Steph stopped messing with his eyes and she began to rub something sticky and fruity smelling on his lips. "Look, no one will know but you, me, Damian, and Bruce. Alright?"

"Fine," Dick sighed as he waited for Stephanie to finish his transformation. When the woman was finished, Dick looked into the mirror and had an internal war with himself.

On one hand, once the wing was on and he actually made a really pretty girl. On the other hand, he was a boy and was therefore aspired to look as manly as he could at all times. Yes, he was well aware that there were plenty of boys that would have been excited to see themselves done up so girly. Good for them, let them have their fun. Dick just wasn't one of them.

"I'm traumatized!" Dick cried out.

"Don't cry! You'll mess up your makeup!" Stephanie smacked his shoulder. "Now let's get you into your outfit and get going."

The teenage Gotham Missy Beauty Pageant that year was being held in the Civic Center just downtown of the financial district. Each year they held it at a different location and security went on a rise as it never failed that at least one girl would disappear each year for the past sixteen years. In all that time, only three girls had been found and returned to their families. After they had already been sold in a sex trafficking ring and their 'owner's got sloppy about keeping tabs on their new 'dolls'.

Of course, the bat family had tried looking into it but never managed to get a good clue as to; whom the traffickers were, where they based their sells, and where they housed their 'stalk'. Damian had the idea to send someone in undercover back when Cass was thirteen. However the girl's inability to speak proved to be the downfall as she couldn't even get through the preliminaries. Back then she also had difficulty in toning down her killer grace that intimidated the judges.

This year Bruce decided to send Dick in as a last ditch effort before they just started tagging all the contestants with tracking devices, such as the one found in the false tooth in the back of Dick's mouth. So now Dick had to try and act 'flirty' while a bunch of strangers looked him up and down with scrutinizing looks all the while he was uncomfortably dressed in an outfit that misgendered him.

"Come on, Becca, try to look lively," Steph sighed at him, using his undercover name. Rebecca Jones went by the name Becca and was here with her older sister, Stacy Jones. Becca had a dream to be the next 'Missy Gotham'.

"I want to die," Dick whined and pouted.

"There's the spirit. Ours is booth fifteen." Stephanie lead Dick to a vanity at the end of the row where a bunch of girls were in various stages of undress. Dick tried to keep his eyes on the floor and his blush under control. Thankfully his skirt was poofy and hid any sort of proof of his actual gender, but it was still extremely uncomfortable trying to ignore the problem that any eleven-year-old boy in his position would have. Come on, there were, like, a ton of pretty girls, most of which were in nothing but their bras or panties, and he had to pretend that it was something he was used to!

The only reason he wasn't beat red was because his blood was working elsewhere.

"Kill me, Dear God," Dick muttered into his hands when one girl bent down in nothing but a petticoat.

"There is no God here," Steph muttered back darkly. "Now, sit down and let me touch up your makeup."

Dick kept his eyes to the ground from then on. He let Steph do whatever she wanted to his face, and was grateful that the few costume changes he was required to make they already tested to make certain wouldn't reveal too much while he changed into them. The first thing they had to do was the introductions and then a catwalk. Then after the first set of girls were sent home, the pageant would move on to the talent show. With over thirty girls trying to get past the preliminaries, Dick was hoping he'd get sent home with the half that wouldn't make it that far.

"Next up, Homeschooled through Gotham Public High, Becca Julie Jones!" The announcer was a gaudily decorated woman with an obnoxious voice.

Dick felt his stomach hit the floor as he made his way to the stage. He glanced behind himself to see Steph give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He gave a small smile back at her before facing forward and glaring. He was going to kill Bruce when this was over.

"Hello there, Little Lady, so pretty, will you please introduce yourself in the mic please?" The woman asked from the side, gesturing to the mic on the stand in the smack dab middle of the stage.

"Um, hello, I'm Becca Jones, and I would like to be the next 'Missy Gotham'," Dick uttered shyly to the judges. He then glanced to the announcer lady to see her give him an encouraging nod and he took that to mean it was time for him to do his catwalk down the little mini stage that protruded from the larger stage. He tried to keep Steph's advice to 'float' and give a cute little curtsey at the turn around point. He felt absolutely ridiculous the whole time. When he made it back behind the stage Steph was at his side asking him how it was.

"I think I need to vomit."

"So that good, huh?"

"I looked stupid, why did you tell me to curtsey?"

"I bet it was cute! It was cute, wasn't it? Of course it was! Let's get you into the next outfit. It's even cuter when you curtsey in that one!" Steph, as unsympathetic as ever, lead the way back to their booth. As Steph helped him get into his costume change that he hoped he wouldn't need, a few more girls went out on the stage to do their introductions. Everything was going fine until the music was interrupted and the announcer called for a cleanup.

"Oh dear, it seems that nerves have gotten the better of little Amber Jean, I'm sorry dear girl, but hopefully you'll be up for it next year," the announcer all but explained, "Anyway, that was everyone, thankfully. While we get the stage cleaned up, the judges will be deliberating over who will be eliminated and who will move on to become the next 'Missy Gotham'!" There was cheering and the music started up again.

During the break, Stephanie got Dick a small drink of water, and while she was gone he couldn't help but watch as the announcer lady came backstage and check over everyone. She really was the picture of the word 'gaudy'. She had brilliant orange hair that curled and stood on top of her head 'Miss Frizzle' style. But she also wore so much blue eyeshadow it made her look like a clown. She also had no eyebrows and instead drew in two thin brown lines where her brows should have been. Her earrings and necklace matched, but they were both so large and clunky Dick didn't even notice what she could possibly be wearing around it. However, it wasn't the woman's fashion sense that made Dick curious, it was her gaze.

The announcer was looking around at all the girls with a look in her eye that looked like she was calculating and appraising. Sure, she could just be seeing who would be in the next part of the competition, or she could be gauging how much each girl would be worth in the market. Dick gulped and averted his eyes quickly when her eyes landed on him.

"Alright, I'm back with the water. We really should have brought water bottles, why didn't I think of it?" Steph came back talking to herself and handed Dick a small cup. Dick took it and took a sip, trying to not give Steph any more reason to keep smearing lip-gloss on his mouth. He glanced over to see the woman was gone. The music changed tempo and so he figured she was back on the stage. After a bit, he heard her speak.

"The wait is over! If I can have all the contestants out on the stage!"

"Alright, time to get into your line up!" Steph clapped her hands together as Dick set his cup down and tried not to trip over his own feet as he followed all the other girls out onto the floor. On the stage, the girls stood side by side in a single line that stretched the stage and faced total the oblivion that was the darkness of the unlit audience. The announcer lady stood to the side with her mic, allowing an undisruptive view of all the girls.

"Now then, for the results, if I call your name please step forward as you take your place in the primaries!" The confident girls all giggled under their breath while a few of the more self-conscious took shaky breaths. It was good to know he wasn't going to completely stick out like a sore thumb. "Alright; Mandy Adams, Ritta Bale, Flor Bontina, Danny Crane, Rainy Cruize, Sussie Eden, Gabriella George, Teressa Hail, Hanna Harp, Caddie Harp, Becca Jones, Georgia Noel, Denis Paul, Jessica Tall, and Hailey Yettz. Congratulations girls, you are officially in competition to become the next Teenage Missy Gotham!"

Dick stood between Caddie and Georgia and felt like he was going to faint. Some of the girls behind him were crying, some screaming in rage, Dick swore he even heard one girl cry out a very relieved 'thank God!' as she, along with the others were ushered off the stage.

"Oh no, I didn't think I'd actually get this far," Georgia muttered with tears in her eyes, Dick could see she looked about ready to throw up.

"Your own fault for signing up," Denis sneered from the other side of her.

"I didn't want to sign up, Mom made me sign up," Hanna murmured from the other side of Caddie.

"Try telling that to the girls who just went backstage," Caddie dared her as she gave a grateful wave to the judges, "They'll tear you apart and wear your skin into the next phase."

Dick gulped as he joined the other girls in waving and curtsying.

When backstage, Steph warped her arms around Dik in a tight hug and almost lifted him from the ground as she squeezed the life out of him.

"You did So great out there! Did you see half the girls that got through? They about vomited their guts they were scared! I didn't know you have a such a fierce look on you! You keep that look going you'll win this!"

"Ste-Stacy, wha-what look? What are you talking about?" Dick grunted out as he tried to pry the girl off. Stephanie let him go, though left a hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling over.

"You had this sultry, saucy, attitude giving look on your face during the lineup," Steph 'explained'.

"No, I didn't, I was just trying not to piss myself!" Dick denied.

"Then drink up that water and cross your legs, cause with a face like that, these girlies ain't gotta chance!" Steph's harsher accent broke through her normally high-class dictation.

"Calm yourself, Stacy, you're starting to sound like you're from the Bowery," Dick warned his 'sister' kindly. Steph put a hand to her mouth and had the decency to look ashamed.

The next four contests knocked out contestants in a strange order; the sportswear brought the group from 15 to 10- which Dick passed with a cheerleading outfit. Then

Then the next four knocked out two each; the talent show that Dick passed with gymnastics, the casual where Dick wore a pair of skinny jeans and a pink shirt, the themed event that Dick wore a cowgirl outfit. Having finished off his bit with finger guns and a wink, Dick sauntered backstage before he fell into his chair and almost started bawling.

"I don't wanna do this anymore! I wanna go play football or hockey, or just get into a brawl! I want to feel like a man again!" Dick whined. He felt Steph give the back of his head a chop with the side of her hand, hard.

"Stop complaining. You're doing this to save lives so shut up already!" She growled. Dick looked over his shoulder to see Stephanie glaring at him. "I have been understanding because I get that you're uncomfortable, but you're losing sight of why we are doing this and I'm getting like, really annoyed with you. So can it!"

"Y-yes ma'am," Dick whimpered.

"Look, all the girls who you've knocked out of the competition are all being watched closely in the audience or have headed home already with their guardians. If the trafficker is going to get a girl, they'll have to take one still in the competition. That is you, and three others at this very moment. So get into your evening gown, and I'm going to the bathroom. Try not to let the other girls out of your sight." With that, Stephanie stomped off toward the girl's rooms, leaving Dick alone to watch as Georgia, Rainy, and Flor all got ready for their next event. As Rainy dropped her mermaid theme dress, Dick's face when a brilliant red and he turned to face the wall as he got ready.

Dick quickly pulled his evening gown up; it was made to make him look like he had curves where no eleven-year-old, boy -OR- girl, would naturally have them. From what he was learning to understand, that was a president for beauty pageants. Remembering to keep count of how many girls were in the room, Dick chanced a glance back over to the other contestants. Three; good, they were all accounted for. Dick moved his gaze back to the wall and began to zip up. He got halfway up his back when his arm just wouldn't go any farther. He tried fruitlessly to make it move just one more inch before a stranger's hand gently took the zipper from him and finished pulling it up all the way for him. Thinking it was either one of the other girls being kind, or even Stephanie having come back from the bathroom, Dick went to turn and thank them. He didn't get a chance before a gloved hand was over his mouth.

Dick's eyes went wide and he went to claw and the hand, but the kidnapper was unphased. They started to pull him backward, out of the dressing room. That was when Dick saw as the last of the other girls left, not having noticed the kidnapping in the least. It was too practiced. This had to be their usual method. Wait until there are a small number of girls, the last one out of the dressing room was the one that didn't go home. Dick was both glad it wasn't one of the civilians and cursing his luck that he always ended up getting kidnapped or held hostage.

"Be a good girl now," the kidnapper spoke from behind him. He was taken through some empty halls and outside to a parked panel van. There were two other guys there walking over to help the first guy as they gently tied Dick's hands behind his back. That was something that actually surprised Dick, they were firm but gentle. Though it made a bit of sense, they wanted the girls to stay pretty, so the less bruising the more profit. Seeing no reason to actually fight, Dick let himself be manhandled into the van and sat tight as they tied him in.

"Well, aren't you a good girl. Very smart, don't be trouble for us now and things will be alright." Dick doubted that very much, but he knew the guy just wanted to 'reward' good behavior to make it all easier on himself and his buddies.

they drove for long enough for Dick to mentally sing Britney Spears' 'Toxic', Bruno Mars' 'Lazy Song', and Katey Perry's 'Firework'. So, no, he didn't really know how long he had been in the van, because just as he started up with 'Battle Feild' by Jordan Sparks he was interrupted as he was pulled out of the van.

"Alright, girlly, I'm going to remove this gag. Before I do I will say three things; one - there is no one around to hear you scream, two - screaming annoys us and gets 'good girls' put on the 'naughty girl' list, and three - we are removing the gag as a curtesy. It can't be comfortable and we don't want to cause you discomfort, but we are not afraid to stick it back in if necessary. Understand?" Dick nodded up at the guy. He already memorized the facial features of every guy in the van, none of them disguised themselves, considering that none of the girls were ever found the ones that were had been traumatized beyond belief, they didn't really need to.

The kidnapper gently removed the gag that had been eased into Dick's mouth before.

"You have a name girl?" He asked.

"Becca, Becca Jones." Dick heard that kidnappers would avoid learning their victims' names to keep from accidentally bonding with them. Like how in 'silence of the lambs' the murderer would call his victims 'it' as not to remind himself they were human beings he was tormenting. So either this guy was a newb, or he genuinely didn't care about human life. Ironically, the nicer the guy was, the more it told Dick how evil he truly was.

"Alright, Becca, just do as we say and things will be alright," he repeated his lie. The guy lead his team into a lone building in the middle of nowhere. As they lead Dick through the building, he could see a small common room area, probably where the kidnappers hung out until they unloaded their victim. They went down a hall to the side and into a medium sized room.

"Here is where you'll be staying for a while, Miss Jones," the 'nice' kidnapper explained as another guy started to untie his binds. Dick looked around and felt confused. It was nice. There was a twin sized bed with clean sheets, a bathroom with a door, a radio, and a television. Dick waited for the other shoe to drop, some reason these guys were being so 'nice'. He had saved kidnapping victims before, they weren't kept in rooms like this unless they were being taken from one parent by another.

"This is the 'good girl' room. We've got a closet with a piss bucket for 'naughty girls'," one of the other kidnappers 'explained'. He sounded rough, more like Dick was used to from low time criminals. He probably had a bit more humanity than the 'nice' guy.

"We'll bring you dinner in an hour or two, in the meantime, feel free to watch some t.v." the first kidnapper suggested.

With that, the door was shut, and Dick heard it lock.

Steph better be on her way with the others.

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I finished this quickly last night and ran it through a spell check a couple of times so I'm sorry if it's a bit sloppy.

Robin undercover as a girl! Cause THAT is a tradition I NEEDED to keep alive in this AU. I didn't mean for this to be a two-parter but I ended up going into too much detail with the pagent, sorry! See ya guys, . . . next week? month? I don't know. I make no promises at this point.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Stay Strong, Dick'. I'll accept it.)


	9. Convincing Disguises prt 2

**A/N:** YO! So I am going to work on some essays for pay, I'll link you guys if I can. They'll be some short stories and such. Because of that, I decided to go ahead and rush this out so I wasn't leaving you guys hanging again! So here ya go!

My Robin Reversal AU:

Dick-11 Jason-16 Steph-18 Damian-24

* * *

Chapter Nine: Convincing Disguises prt 2

Dick's dinner was KFC on a plastic plate. The guard who gave it to him told him not to complain. It was still relatively warm and a decent amount so Dick honestly had no idea what he *would* complain about. Then again, he's supposed to be a 'pageant princess', so he probably should come up with something to have a Diva Fit about. After he had searched the room top to bottom for clues, Dick was able to note three things; there was evidence of at least three other girls having been kept here, the guards kept an eye through a camera in the top corner of the room, and there was nothing else useful for a crime-fighting detective to investigate in this room.

Dick decided that he needed to expand his search a little. He really only had one option to do so, however.

Taking a breath and getting into character, 'Becca' walked over to the plate that 'she' had set on top of the dresser. 'She' took a bite of the now cold chicken and made a disgusted face.

"THIS IS TOO SALTY!" 'She' screamed at the top of 'her' lungs in the highest pitch he could manage. He realized that he should probably cool it on the voice acting, there was only so much poor Dick could do to pass as a girl. Trying to get back into a headspace that he had lost, Dick then proceeded to throw the biggest tantrum in his life. Complete with flipping the mattress, yanking out the dresser drawers and sending the clean linens inside flying, running to the bathroom and grabbing rolls of toilet paper that he then used to forcefully t.p. the whole room with. He threw the meal against the door and ranted the whole time about how a proper chicken should be prepared. He might have slipped into a bit of an Alfie headspace there, to be perfectly honest.

All in all, it was actually a bit of fun, and it accomplished what he needed it to. As Dick was trying to remove the t.v. from its spot on the stand, two guards came in with zip ties and a gag. They weren't nearly so gentle this time as the zip ties dug deep into Dick's wrists and the gag was tied so tight it cut at the corners of his mouth. He was then dragged out harshly back toward the 'common area' Dick saw before. The 'Nice' guard was by an open closet door, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Now, now, Becca, I thought we had an understanding. I'm sorry, but you're just too wild for the 'good girl' room." With that, the two guards that had ahold of Dick tossed him into the closet and slammed the door shut. There was the sound of keys rattling and Dick knew he had been locked in.

Resettling himself, Dick accidentally kicked a bucket that was in the corner of the pitch black room. Using his feet to feel out the space, he learned that it was about 4x3 feet of floor space and he had plenty of room to stand. Gently kicking the bucket to the side and out of the way, Dick took his practiced stance with his feet at shoulder length, slightly leaned forward, braced his hands against each other palms-in, and firmly raised his hand up his back applying a wedge type force to snap the plastic ring with the use of practical pressure. The zip tie fell right off and Dick pulled his hands in front of himself to rub feeling back into his hands. Now with his newly freed hands, he reached behind his head and untied the gag, releasing his aching jaw from its hell.

Now no longer bound in a painful manner, Dick hiked up his skirt and sat cross-legged by the locked exit with his ear to the door.

"Geeze man, these girls. Pagent girls have to be the craziest. The ones we nab from the gutter are the best behaved! Shame they're not worth as much. Not unless they pass for a pageant girl, at least."

"Yes, but don't forget, the last time we sold a street girl as a pageant girl, it didn't end well for the buyer. We can't afford to have a reputation of that kind. We have to be more honest about our product if we want to raise the prices soon."

"Here's the thing, I get being honest to the customer. With the sleazy pricks that we deal with, it makes since not to screw them over if we don't want to end up dead. But why do we gotta pamper the damn girls? They never appreciate it, and no duh, they just got kidnapped! You keep saying that it's to 'encourage good behavior', but that's only ever worked twice! And one of those times it was a street girl that sold for pennies!"

"Because of business practices, you moron." Woah, 'Nice Guy' suddenly doesn't sound so nice. "We just agreed that it's best not to lie to the customer. So when we say we pamper the product, they pay more for it. We are of course expected to punish 'bad behavior', but as long as we give them a chance in the nicer room first, we can still legitimently make the claim. Get it?"

"I get it. Like those 'Kobe Beef' cows. There are those farms that sell 'Kobe beef' for just slightly less than real kobe beef, but they get away with it cause they fed the cow kobe once in a while. Where as the expensive farms feed the cows nothing but kobe. It's kind of like that, right?"

"Yes! Thank you, Fredrick, you understand!"

"..."

"I'm sorry, Craige, what was that?"

"I said, that these girls ain't no beef." Dick was taken aback by that. From his voice, Craige was the 'rough' guard from earlier. So Dick was right, he did have a bit more humanity than 'Nice guy'.

"You're right, Craige, they are not beef, and they are indeed girls. That's why we get to charge an incomparable amount more."

"Whatever," Craige muttered just loud enough for Dick to hear through the door. He heard steps move out of the room, probably Craige.

"Damn, he's waning," Fredrick said.

"Don't worry. He has just as much to lose as we do. He's too deep into this, we all are. He has no choice but to go through with it. If he wants out after this one, then I'll talk it over with him and we'll reach a deal." Dick hear the cocking of a hand gun, and he had a feeling the deal was of the 'dead men tell no tales' sort.

There was silence for a while, maybe half an hour or so, before footsteps came back in telling Dick that Craige reentered the room.

"We got a buyer yet?"

"Yes, Glen has been waiting rather patiently for a girl since winter last year."

"Glen? The tools guy?" Fredrick sounded disbelieving.

"No, Glen Hedgins. The Smuggler. His ocean yacht can get a bit lonely on long shipments, and he's lamented that none of his crew ever look good enough to, well, even with cabin fever. He wants a girl to warm his bed and he's going to pay handsomely for her."

"Of course Hedgehog would have to *buy* a girl. A face like that, I'm amazed his own mother didn't drown him," Craige snarked.

"That may very well be, but handsome men don't need to buy girls, now do they? Thus we must cater to our customer base as best we can." Dick felt disgusted listening to the men talk about the slave trade as if it was just another commodity. He couldn't wait until Batman busted their door down and beat the living day-lights out of them. Until then, Dick made sure to memorize as much information as he could. Getting moved to the 'Naughty girl room' was probably his best idea yet.

From there the men talked about how ugly 'Hedgehog Glen' was, gossiping about his temper and grosser manners, the conversation took a while and left the men laughing as they mocked their client. It felt like a long time before anyone said anything useful again.

"So, wait, if the buyer is Hedgehog, then we won't be dropping her off in the usual spot, will we?" Fredrick asked. Dick's ears perked up.

"There's not need to worry. I've talked it over to Glen and he'll be bringing a less suspicious vessel into the dock. We worked hard to cultivate a backstory for our use of the pier at our usual time, it'd be such a waste to ruin it by switching up our routine now."

"Still though, I doubt Hedgehog knows what 'less suspicious' looks like, we may want to at least move it to pier 8 instead of 5, but then again, I suppose it's too late for that, isn't it?" Craige pointed out. Dick continued to go over all the new information and tried to think over what else he could possibly need to know. Time would probably be the last thing, right? He had the people, the place, the how, the motive; all that was left was when.

"Shh, did you hear that?" Fredrick gasped. 'Oh no,' Dick thought, 'it's too soon, I still need more information!'

"It's probably just rats," Craige.

"Hold on, don't forget where we base our operations from. The last thing we need is a giant bat falling through the skylight," 'Nice' guy reminded his companions.

"But, Dez, you had us seal over the skylight by welding a large sheet of metal over it, remember?" Fredrick pointed out. 'Finally, a name for Nice Guy!' Dick whooped in his mind.

"Guys, shut up a minute," Craige called over warningly. There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again, "I think that was in the air duct."

"Then get a gun and shoot them out," Dez ordered.

"Don't be telling me what to do, Carl," Craige snarled back. Wait, Carl? But Fredrick called him 'Dez'? A nickname, maybe?

"Just do it," Fredrick helped Dez/Carl team up against Craige.

Dick honestly couldn't say what all else happened from then. There was banging, gunshots, shouting, and then silence.

"Where is the kid?" That was Damian's 'Shadowbat' voice. Dick rolled his eyes and knocked on the closet door.

"I'm in here," he called out. There was a bit of shuffling toward the door before the knob started rattling as Shadowbat picked the lock. The door swung open and Dick had to blink up at the light. The moment his eyes adjusted to the brightness he noticed the look Damian was giving him. That was when he remembered he was wearing a dress, a wig, and make-up.

"Don't say, anything," Dick lowered his voice as he threatened his eldest brother. Damian, for his part, didn't seem like he was going to laugh.

"Come on, we need to get you out of here." Dick was appreciative of the change in the topic. He stood and straightened out his dress as he followed Shadowbat into the common area. He saw Spoiler in her purple outfit was holding the end of a rope that was tightly binding the three kidnappers in the middle of the room.

"What took you so long!" Dick complained.

"Hey, it's not my fault *Becca*. I had to stop Betty Carol from ditching town," Spoiler defended herself.

"Who?" Dick was confused. Spoiler did her usual head roll that told everyone that Steph just rolled her eyes.

"The announcer lady? She was the one 'spotting' for the kidnappers. Letting them know where security was weakest, who to nab, when to go, etc. etc." Spoiler explained.

"What, you got Friz?" Fredrick whined.

"So you thought she looked like Ms. Frizzle to?" Dick asked excitedly. The kidnappers each looked at him confused.

"Becca, don't talk to the human traffickers, okay?" Spoiler told him. Dick bit his lip and nodded back at her. Shadowbat draped his cloak over Dick's shoulders and led him out the back of the warehouse.

Dick always liked Shadowbat's cloak. It wasn't the same style of cape as Batman or Superman. It was a dark, smokey gray, hooded cloaked that more wrapped around Damian's shoulders than it did his neck. It seemed to wrap around itself in the front, where it was actually stitched to the other side, to take it off or put it on Damian had to pull it over his head like a shirt. Though in dire situations where he needed it off fast a knife proved more efficient.

"You did good, Robin," Shadowbat muttered to him as they walked over to Shadowbat's motorcycle.

Dick frowned, "but I haven't even given my report yet?"

"Even before you get to it, I can tell you that you did well." Damian helped Dick onto the bike. He sat the younger brother on it sideways and just gave a smirk and a brow rise at the glare he got from it. "You kept in character - the whole time, you kept the mission in mind."

"Oh, about that!" Dick called out to Shadowbat as he reseated himself correctly and the elder got on. "So, I was able to overhear some important information!"

"Hold on to it. You can fill out your report when we get back to the cave." Shadowbat started the engine up and the two sped off.

Later that night saw Dick freshly washed, in proper boy clothes, and trying to write his report while at the same time answering Bruce's questions.

"Pier 8 was their usual place to sell?"

"No, Pier 8 was suggested by Craige, Pier 5 was their usual drop off point. I didn't get a time or date, though."

"And the smuggler was 'Glen Hedgins? Did you get any other information on him?"

"Just that he was ugly and the kidnappers kept calling him 'Hedgehog Glen'."

"Alright, that's all I wanted to go over in your report," Bruce finally relented.

"FINALLY~!" Dick sighed and leaned back in his seat. He was exhausted. Officially dismissed and free to go to bed, Dick trudged up the stairs as fast as his sluggish body could carry him. When he got to the top of the stairs, however, he ran right into his older brother Jason.

"Hey, Dicky! How was your mission? What did you do again? You can Steph went on something top secret, right? So how'd it go?" Jason started asking a million questions, moving to block Dick's path every time the younger tried to duck around him.

"Jason, I'm tired, let me go to bed," Dick demanded.

"Just tell me what your mission was," Jason challenged him.

"Human trafficking, alright? That's all I'm saying," Dick growled.

Jason whistled low and slow as he stepped to the side. "Sounds like Dicky-bird is moving up to the big leagues." Dick stuck his tongue out at Jason as he made for the next set of stairs. Why did Wayne Manor have so many stairs?

* * *

 **A/N:** So, That was Dick's little adventure. Not much toward the plot, but then again, what is plot in a non-linear story like this? I'm thinking of leaving it to a vote on who's background we see next? Steph, Damian, or Jason? I'll leave it to you guys. No votes mean I'll just roll a die or something. Later!

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Good Night, Dick'. I'll accept it.)


	10. Bruce Meet Damian

**A/N:** Pfft, those essays haven't gotten finished. I got caught up in reading though. So, um, if my writing style is a bit different this time around, it's all at the faults of Shakespear, Wilde, and Carroll.

Also, I had ONE vote for which background to do, and they wanted Steph, . . . which I found out AFTER I wrote out Damian's so, I suppose I must go straight to Steph's background after I finish with Damian's arch. Might as well, I guess, after all, that's the order they come in anyway. ;)

My Robin Reversal AU:

Damian - 5

* * *

Chapter Ten: Bruce Meet Damian

When Bruce was but 9 years old, he walked with his parents home from the picture theater. He had just seen the first showing of the Legendary Zorro and was completely enthralled with his play as a masked hero protecting those who were incapable of protecting themselves. He danced about the sidewalk, balancing along the curb, showing off great feats of athletics and impeccable swordsmanship; all of which went unseen to the literal mind. His mother and father looked on his play with amused bewilderment. How grateful they were to have such a lively child, so full of imagination and roguish spirit.

A contagious moment of daring caught Mr. Wayne as he witnessed his wife try to stifle a yawn.

"This way," he insisted, thumbing down a dark alleyway. Mrs. Wayne looked on skeptically as she gave her husband a doubtful look for his sanity. "It's perfectly safe, Martha, what with young Zorro here to protect us. Besides, it will get us closer to where the cabbies are waiting much faster. My dear, I see you're asleep on your feet."

"Tom, we can go around with the lights, just like last time. I'm perfectly awake," Mrs. Wayne protested.

"Come on, Mother, I'll protect you!" Little Bruce shouted in glee as he raced down the darkened cobblestones within the alley.

"Bruce! Not so fast, Dearest!" Mrs. Wayne called out to her child.

"Hell's fire couldn't make the boy any swifter. We best catch up to him," Mr. Wayne joked as he took his wife's hand.

Halfway into the alleyway, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne found their child waiting for them, staring fixed at something hanging off a gargoyle alongside the roofing.

"Father, do you see that?" Bruce asked, pointing to a dark mass of shadows beneath the stone creature. It unnerved him, the wrongness of the shadows in contrast to the direction of the moon's light, the way its inky blackness left not even the barest hint of what it hid. Young Bruce couldn't take his eyes from it and felt his heart quicken. He didn't like it, and as his child's mind played up all sorts of horrors, it only served to frighten the boy farther as the inky shadow grew quickly - before, like black lightning, it shot down and glided down before spreading itself long, catching the wind and swooping just above Bruce's head. This caused the boy to shriek and crouch in a fetal position with his head in his shaking hands.

"Oh, silly boy," his father called to him, taking quick steps to be by his son's side, "it was just a bat. Harmless creature if any."

Bruce let his father's words coax him out of his fear-induced state and stood shamefaced by his mother, embarrassed for having acted so cowardly.

"Let's just get home," Mrs. Wayne pressed and her husband agreed. The two flanked their beloved son as they walked farther into the darkened alley.

It wasn't until they were just about to the exit that someone stepped before them.

"Excuse me, Sir, we need to get through," Mr. Wayne called out to the immobile figure. The only response given was the gun pulled out in a practiced manner. Mrs. Wayne gasped loudly and clutched protectively at her son.

"Pearls; the ones around your wife's pretty neck," the stranger called out, "and your wallet, while you're at it, Sir."

"Please, we will do as you ask," Mr. Wayne replied softly. He slowly reached into his inside breast pocket, where he always kept his billfold. As a gentleman, Mr. Wayne had opinions about those who stow their wallets in the pockets of their trousers. It would seem that this man did not agree with those opinions and decided that the person whom he held at gunpoint was trying to pull a piece of his own.

With two shots the Wayne's hit the ground. With such a protective grapple upon her son, Mrs. Wayne's cold-growing arms dragged the boy down with her. By the time he was freed from her lifeless limbs, the murderer was no-where to be seen. The only sound Bruce could recall from that point in further memory was the heart-wrenching sound of his own painfilled scream.

000

Bruce Wayne - recently turned 17, shot up in his futon. He was drenched in sweat and breathing harshly. He looked around to the other fledglings, most had roused when he did, though all kept still as graves. It was shameful of him to react to a mere illusion of the night. He was here to become part of something greater than himself, he could not do this while he continued to allow himself to be a victim of his own mind!

"Watiwat, you rise before the day has colored the land." The soft voice came from behind him as he felt his heart stop. So, she was the one keeping watch tonight. He tried not to give away his feelings, or how confused they were. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as the daughter of his new master silently walked before him. It was as if she stepped only on shadows. With the same silence and grace, the young woman knelt down to be at eye level with him and the two teenagers locked gazes. He could never tell what she was thinking behind those breathtaking browns, yet they always penetrated deep into his very soul. "You had the dream again?"

Bruce swallowed around the lump in his throat and gave her a silent nod in confirmation. She narrowed her eyes just a little- in either thought or disgust, Bruce could never tell - before she stood again.

"Come, we will go to my father. Your nightmares grow frequent. When the same vision forces upon itself, there is usually a message to be heard in it." Bruce took a shaky breath and stood as quietly as he could. Trying to keep in mind his every lesson since coming to the secret study of the League, he toed after the graceful daughter of the Demon's Head.

The two came before a grand throne room and as soon as they made it to the center, Bruce fell to his knees and kowtowed before his master while his superior, Talia, stood proudly next to him.

"Father, the student you inquired upon earlier, renamed 'Watiwat' for his own great fear, continues to have terrors in his sleep," Talia informed her father, the great and terrifying Ra's Al Ghul.

000

"Master Bruce," called Alfred Pennyworth, "I believe there is a parcel for you at the door." Bruce turned in his bed. The 22-year-old was trying to catch what vestiges of sleep he could after his late-night crime fighting.

"Leave it. I'll get to it in an hour or so," Bruce called out through the door.

"I'm afraid, he may need your attention much sooner than that. In fact, I have taken the liberty of showing him to the library for your reunion." Bruce scoffed in his sleep at the butler and pulled his blanket closer to himself. He had just about dosed back to sleep before the elder man's word finally caught up in his mind.

"Wait, what?!"

Damian Al Ghul, five years old, walked about his father's small library. He was unimpressed with its size and selection, though a small part of him had to admit that not one of the books he had laid eyes on so far seemed at all familiar to him. He supposed if he were to really challenge himself, he could read the library dry within a year, but he didn't see much importance that could be had in such titles as 'The Picture of Dorian Grey'. What could such a thing even be about? Was it a history of a famous painting? Maybe 'picture' was a metaphor and the small tome was, in fact, a biography about an important man named Dorian Grey. Falling victim to his own curiosity, Damian withdrew the book from its place on the shelf and opened it. He started into it, though he hadn't gotten past the preamble set by a painter and lord, and had only been introduced to the titular character through the painter's portrait of him.

Just as the painter began to explain to his friend about the strange character that was Grey, the door opened itself in a disgraceful rush. Damian's eyes forced themselves from the passages he was reading and to eyes that would have matched their own, had it not been for the age and experience that divided them.

"Master Bruce, did you forget to mention a certain 'goings-on' that took place while you were in Russia?" The old man that had lead Damian into his estranged father's home snarked. Damian held off a glare and waited for his father to reprimand his servant.

"I, uh, she didn't, how old is he?" Damian couldn't help but express how dumbfounded he was to see his own flesh and blood react sheepishly to his own servant!

"I have already inquired to the young master's age. He is but five-years-old and manages to have your every mannerism down plus sum. I assume any addition would be a gift from his mother's part? I take it from your reaction, you have in mind who she could be?"

"Well, there really is only one woman on the face of this planet that it _could_ be Alfred. I only keep a persona to the media of a horn-dog. And even when it came to her, I admit things went farther than I should have let them-"

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Master Bruce, after all, it would seem the consequence is now upon us. He was left with this letter on your doorstep. It would seem his mother felt it was time to reunite father and son." Damian couldn't help but glare at the wretched letter his mother had tricked him into handing over. Had the boy known what was written, he'd have never delivered it. At the very least, he would have forged new ones to say something different.

Damian watched in disgraced silence as his father took the papers from the old butler and unfolded them before reading aloud:

'My Beloved,

I hope you have the decency in you to recall that night nearly six years ago, during that time you were once true and faithful to your vows toward my father. You were wrecked with horrid visions every night, calling to you to exact revenge upon the wicked that defiled your home and felled your parents. With father's blessing, I comforted you to my best as we concluded your training was to change. You were to be heir to the greatest army any mortal realm had ever seen.

When you left, it was decided that if your cowardice would keep you from your destiny, whilst you'd carve yourself a new path of righteousness in Gotham, then your own heir would serve to usurp you properly. It was with this in mind that his merciful Ra's Al Ghul chose not to pursue you, and would instead start a new with our son, Damian.

Through matters that which I see no reason to disclose with you, that plan has changed. With no reason to farther his training as the new Demon Head, it was agreed that the most convenient course of action would be to send him to you, his father. Whether you farther his training on your own or stunt his growth is completely up to you. It would be my personal wish that you teach him to inherit the symbol which you have chosen to wear upon your chest. He has already been unjustly stripped of one birth-right, My Love. I cannot give him any more than the hope that you, his own father, would see to it that he is promised the other.

Your ever faithful love,

Talia Al Ghul

(Take care of our prince, Bruce, or I shall take care of you.)'

"Ah, if ever the need for proof of a mother's love, look no farther than the truth of her threats," the old butler jested at his mother's letter. Damian grounded his teeth. So this was to be his punishment? This new world was to be his hell.

"Well, uh, Damian," his father stuttered, "Welcome, to Gotham?"

* * *

 **A/N:** So, trying to look up an Arabic name for Bruce for his time with the League, I found that in the media 'Bat Man' had its own name and I thought it'd be cool to put it in there. But when you flip it around in Google and try to translate what the media says رجل وطواط , 'rajul watiwat' to English, it translated it to 'Man and tit', . . . so, no I didn't make an error with Google translate, it's just one of those times that the algorithm gets, . . . wonky. ^_^;;

Also tried playing with Damian's Arabic name, considering in the comics his translates to 'Son of the Bat', but I couldn't get 'of the bat' to translate properly. Anyway, the name won't be used again, hardly ever, so I'm not going to worry about it, . . . much...

((source- [three W's dot] almaany [dotcom] /en/dict/ar-en/%D9%88%D8%B7%D9%88%D8%A7%D8%B7/ )) (legit the only way FFN would let me link ya)

I actually had something different planned for Damian's background, but then I started to think up something a bit more probable and easy for me to write. If you think it's a bit out of character for Talia to just dump her son on his father, it is, . . . unless you remember that Talia is a tricky person with secret motives for EVERYTHING. I already have this issue addressed, just, not yet.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Welcome to Gotham, Dami'. I'll accept it.)


	11. American Prince Damian

**A/N:** My computer is about to die! Trying to get this out. It was weirdly hard to write, but then I also had another chapter I was impatient to work on and ended up doing two at once, so, that might have had something to do with it.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Damian - 5

* * *

Chapter Eleven: American Prince Damian

"Thank you for watching Gotham Celebrity Insider, tonight we join our very own Amy Stone as she greets some of Gotham's elite as they join together for the Saint Mercy Charity Ball. Take it away, Amy."

"Thank you, Jill. As you can see behind me, the night has been underway as the guest have been pouring in, but some of the city's most esteemed guests have yet to arrive. As I speak now, here comes Mr. and Mrs. Masterson, followed closely in by the up and coming Drakes. Mr. Masterson, can we get any word on the new Mesume being built near Harbor Square?"

"My team of archeologists and I are very excited to confirm rumors about the undergoing of such a project, though I'm afraid that I am not at liberty to got into more detail just yet."

"Alright, thank you for that! So as the Masterson's lead the charge into the Charity Ball, why don't we go through the list of other expected arrivals. Such appearances are hoped to be from the Cliftons, Mr. Maxi Zuse, Luthor, Goldstein, Madame Lueyai Colt, Actress Searia Kittman, and more. To remind, the charity is for the benefit of the road construction down by the old Parkway, with high hopes of helping small business as well as convenience in travel. We now have another car coming forward and, I don't believe it, Mr. Bruce Wayne making a debut after his 'skiing accident' last spring. Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne! Can you please give our viewers an idea of what you've been up to, to pass the time while you were healing up from your terrible skiing trip?"

"Actually Amy, I'm glad you asked. I am going to make a more official announcement soon, but it would appear that in my less careful beginning as the notorious playboy I have become, I had apparently been less than careful. Through some very careful navigating through custody court, I can now proudly say that I am a father of a very gifted five-year-old son. I will, of course, be giving more information as things get farther settled."

"Wow, that's such a big change for you Bruce, will that lead to any dramatic differences to your lifestyle do you think?"

"Well, I don't expect fatherhood to be easy. I can say with solemn certainty that I will be attending fewer and fewer events."

"And what of your bachelor status? Think you'll be settling down soon? Maybe even with your son's mother?"

"Ah, no, probably not. I doubt I'll be getting around as much, but no, I don't see myself as the 'settling down' type. Not just yet, anyway."

"Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne. Seeing Mr. Wayne through the doors, we now have the Cliftons coming up. Mrs. Clifton, that is an exquisite dress, can you tell us who you wear-" The television suddenly when silent as it was switched off.

"That was utterly moronic!" Damian growled as he almost threw the remote at the television.

"Perhaps, but necessary. Master Bruce needed to explain why he suddenly had a child in his home and it just so happened that his usual cover worked for his favor this time." Pennyworth was cleaning as he spoke to Damian. Dusting, really. Damian ground his teeth as he sat back into his seat. It had been over a month since he moved in with his father in Gotham, New Jersey. Since then, he had four things mostly understood. The first thing he learned, was that while Alfred Pennyworth was a butler and therefore a servant, this was not the extent of his service to his father. In fact, Damian had come to see Pennyworth as more of a vicar to his father's rule, a right-hand man, an adviser, and confidant. Living with his grandfather for so long, Damian wasn't use to seeing someone actually as competent in their position as Pennyworth. It also became quite clear that Damian was to respect and obey the man as if he were an extension of his father himself. So far, Pennyworth had yet to really do anything more than inform Damian of rules and manners pertaining to the new world he now lived in. Damian started to heave a sigh before remembering his mother's teaching on such behavior and tried to cover it with a cough.

The second thing Damian slowly came to understand, that while the Batman that Damian had been told his father was, was feared and respected in equal parts by both criminals and heroes, as well as local law enforcement and his mother's side of the family - that last one being truly impossible feat - Brucie Wayne was a moronic, fast spending, lech that knew nothing about anything. Despite the obvious sense, it made toward hiding any connection between the two identities, Damian hated it. The fake way his father had just smiled dumbly at that blonde floozy and her cameraman made Damian sick. It didn't help that he didn't know what his father was actually like because Bruce Wayne didn't seem to know how to act around Damian at all. The kid just could not get a read on the man.

One of the reasons for this was because of the third thing Damian came to understand. Bruce Wayne did not trust Damian Al Ghul. Or anyone named Al Ghul. Wisely so, too. Damian was never made clear on what had happened between his father and mother, he just knew that his father turned his back on the league around the time that it was being promised to him. He knew that while this decision insulted the Al Ghul clan, he also knew that they, in a small amount, respected him for it, though it made them enemies. That last part was key here. They were enemies and Damian was the perfect Trojan Horse. He wasn't really one, but his father was not the fool that was just on the television. Bruce Wayne was well aware that Talia Al Ghul would use her own child to bring the destruction of their own father if she wanted. But the truth as far as Damian saw it, she didn't want to. She just didn't want him, either.

Damian pulled his knees to his chest as he thought on the fourth thing. He was now, completely, and utterly, alone. Alone in a strange country with strange customs that breed strange people.

"Master Damian, might I suggest heading your way upstairs to your bed? You start school tomorrow and I will be waking you at six o'clock sharp." Damian rolled his eyes. It was only eight, he only needed three hours of sleep. He already figured to get a few extra hours by going to bed at ten and getting up at three before doing his morning work out routine. Since his father so far refused to train him or even allow the name 'Batman' be mentioned in the house, Damian had to rely on his own training regiments to keep in shape until his father finally trusted him. However long that took.

* * *

Damian walked down the hallway with a knot growing in his stomach. He was in enemy territory with no backup, no provisions, and no plan. He didn't have the slightest idea of what was waiting for him on the other side of the door that he now stood at. Next to him was a tall woman with a tight bun in the back of her head. She was slightly heavy set with gowls that told Damian that she knew how to smile once, but had forgotten somewhere along the way. Her name was Principal Cook, and she did not seem like a very forgiving woman.

Prin. Cook gave two firm knocks to the door in front of them and then stood at attention. Everything about the woman was ex-military and Damian didn't know if he was happy about that or not. He was used to silent, strict teachers, but at least he knew what they expected from him. Pennyworth already made it very clear that in this country, children were not trained to be deadly assassins, and violence of any kind would not be tolerated on school premises. So Damian honestly had no idea how to behave or what to do. So he kept his head on a swivel and his motions stiff. None of it was intentional.

The door before them opened and a thin man with a blue sweater greeted them. He was balding at the top and his glasses seemed a bit big for his face that Damian kept expecting them to fall right off his nose. He was clean shaven and had a goofy smile that Damian assumed was meant to relate to the more moronic of Damian it just made the man look like a moron.

"Well, hello Principal Cook, and you must be Damian Wayne. It's nice to meet you. I am Mr. Firks. I will be your homeroom teacher for this year. Would you like to come in and meet your new classmates?" Mr. Firks asked Damian. Damian couldn't bring himself to talk he was so stunned.

"Oh, it's okay to be a bit shy, Damian, but I'm certain your new best friend is waiting in there to meet you. Why don't we give it a try?"

"Mr. Firks," Prin. Cook interrupted, "After watching Mr. Wayne for the past five minutes, it is my assumption that he is coming to us from a military school, please do not talk down to him." So, yes, Damian was happy about Prin. Cook being ex-military. Having at least one adult in the building understand felt like a weight off of Damian's shoulders and he felt himself ease a bit into his usual stance.

"I see. Well then, I'm sorry Damian, I didn't mean to talk down to you," Mr. Firks made a show of apologizing to Damian that Damian had to glare at him a small bit. The guy was talking down to him while apologizing for talking down to him!

"I will be back at the end of the school day to see how well the student is adjusting to the class." With that, Prin. Cook turned on her heel and walked off, or more marched off.

"Come on in, Damian," Mr. Firks motioned for Damian to enter the room. He looked around and felt his eye twitch. There were toys everywhere, kids were running around after each other, there were some screaming, some beating on things, there was a girl in the corner crying her eyes out for no reason, and absolutely nothing that Damian was expecting. "Welcome to your new Kindergarten Class, Damian."

Almost to punctuate the ominous sentence, Damian watched as a boy his age took a whole box of random keys and up-ended it on the floor. Creating both a racket as well as a mess. "When Play Time is over everyone will sit over on that blue rug over there. When things have settled down a bit, then I will introduce you to everyone and we can get started on lessons."

* * *

Damian stood at attention by the front door, refusing any of Pennyworths attempts to persuade him into other activities. No cookies, outdoor activities, books, or even arts and crafts would work to distract the child. Damian was determined to speak with his father. He would NOT suffer this indignity quietly. He was trained by the world's elite. He had such disgraceful behavior beat from him years ago.

Damian was so absorbed in reciting in his mind what he intended to say to his father that he missed it when Bruce came up behind him.

"Alfred says you wanted to talk to me?" Bruce asked. He bit back a smile when the five-year-old jumped a little before spinning around on his heel. Damian stared at his father in complete awe, his gaze going back and forth from the man behind him and the front door that he had to go through to get into the manor.

"But, how did you?" Damian looked back in loss as he tried to figure out how his father had managed to get passed him. The only way that came to mind would have been through a window, but he couldn't imagine that his father would have climbed a window just to avoid the door Damian was guarding.

"What did you want to talk about Damian?" His father rephrased his question, making it clear he did not intend to answer the one Damian asked.

Taking a breath and then squaring his shoulders, Damian gave a stern look to his father and cleared his throat. "Father, I demand to be removed from that school and placed with one of more intelligent peers. If they must be older than so be it."

Bruce Wayne seemed to be taken aback by Damian's request and the force behind it. His brows shot up and he sent a glance back toward the butler, before turning back to Damian and clearing his own throat as he knelt down to talk to the boy at eye level.

"Damian, I understand your mother had you go through extensive learning processes to put you so very far ahead of all the other children your age, I did take that into consideration when I put you in that class. I also understand that you have not had much in the way of learning to interact with the children you've bypassed. Sometimes you have to take a step back in order to be a great leader," Bruce tried to explain.

"Ttch, I don't need to be in a brainwashing course along with those simpletons to command them! I watched one of those cretins put *glue* in their mouths! And then they threw a screaming fit when the 'teacher', as if the dimwit was deserving of the title, confiscated the glue to avoid the dolt from poisoning himself! Though I suppose that would have been *too much* of a service to humanity to allow the idiots to weed themselves out by their own foolishness!" Damian was panting by the end of his outburst.

"First, I said 'lead', Damian, not 'command'. There is a big difference between the two. Also, I need you to watch how children tend to act in this society so that you may mimic it passibly so no one starts asking too much about your mother's side of the family," Bruce tried again.

"I refuse to put up a facade of such moronics!" Damian was furious. He did not want the world to see him like they saw his father. He didn't want the world to see his father the way they did either, but he had no voice in that. "You just want me to be an imbecile that doesn't ask questions, but I was taught better! I want to know more about 'The Batman'! I want to continue my training! I refuse to be just another dullard!"

"As you can see, Master Bruce, Master Damian has even gone so far as to put his vast vocabulary in use to convince you. That was a total of nine words that all are synonymous with 'stupidity' and I have a foreboding feeling that we've only scratched the surface," Pennyworth felt the need to add his unwanted voice into the argument between father and son. Damian wanted to snap at him to shut up, but he knew that wouldn't go over well with his father for some reason.

"That's enough, Alfred, I need to talk with Damian myself, please." Damian almost couldn't believe his ears or eyes as his father shot a look over to the butler. Pennyworth raised a brow at the man before giving a small nod and dismissed himself back to the kitchen. "Damian, follow me."

Still a bit shocked, Damian followed his father through a door that he had been expressly forbidden from entering and hadn't had enough time to properly sneak through yet. There seemed to be no need as his father unlocked and opened the door for him, motioning for Damian to go through. Once in the room on the other side, Damian saw that it was just a simple study room, no doubt where his father did any of his office paperwork that followed him from the office or personal files such as taxes or whatever else. But the point was that it was his father's private space, and Damian had finally been invited inside.

"Take a seat." His father's voice broke Damian out of his awestruck wonderment and the five-year-old instantly sat himself down in one of the armed chairs in front of his father's desk. His father then sat on the other side. There was silence before Bruce pulled out a file from a locked cabinet and handed it over to Damian. The document was in Arabic and thus was even easier for Damian to read, with it having been his first language. The boy scanned it over and felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. It didn't help that his eyes began to prick with tears and cause him farther humiliation.

"You know what that is, Damian." It wasn't a question. Not even a rhetorical one. His father knew very well that Damian was familiar with what was in his hand.

"It's, it's a training regiment, . . . for me," Damian's voice was growing smaller.

"I didn't want to just throw you into something neither of us were ready for yet. You still need to acclimate to this new culture and I need to acclimate to this new responsibility. Not to mention I had to think of something from scratch for you that would best work what you do know and grow what you don't. It's not as easy as it sounds." Damian could have sworn he was listening to his father talk from a megaphone straight into his ear. Each word cut straight through his brain and hit something deep in him that took him a moment to realize what it was. A traitorous tear fell from his eye as he came to terms with what this meant. His father had every intention of training him, of letting Damian in, of granting Damian his last inheritance.

Damian had to swallow around the lump in his throat and looked his father in the eye. He owed this man an apology. However, as soon as Damian opened his mouth to do just that his father spoke.

"I'm giving you a choice Damian," Bruce folded his hands on the desk before him, "I will allow you to skip as many grades as you can, you can be Gotham's little genius. I'll make certain you get all the best tutors and are challenged by peers much older than you and help you grow in that way-," Damian held his breath, he knew there had to be an ultimatum. "Or, you can promise me you'll try harder to blend in with society so that no one suspects a thing when Batman suddenly has a highly trained, extremely smart, child fighting at his side."

Damian couldn't stop another treacherous tear from falling from his other eye this time. His father really had taken all his previous training into account when he chose Damian's class. He looked back down to the training regiment in his hands. It looked properly challenging without seeming too impossible. He looked back up to his father. "When?"

"Not until you're twelve, at the youngest," Bruce answered.

"Ten," Damian challenged.

"Non-negotiable," Bruce replied.

"Fine." And with that, Bruce gave his son a smile.

"I suppose if we're going ahead with your training," he stood as he spoke, walking over to the grandfather clock against the other wall, "I should probably show you where that training will be taking place." With that, his father turned the hand on the clock before opening the glass door and pulling down on the pendulum. There was a click and the whole clock suddenly swung to the side as if on a hinge. It probably was. Damian gasped as the doorway it revealed showed a set of stairs that went deep underneath the house. "Let me show you, Damian, the 'Batcave'."

* * *

 **A/N:** So, As I said, My computer is about to die, so I had to rush the editing on this. Sorry if I missed something obvious! I honestly didn't really know where I was going to go with this. But I do know that a lot, and I mean a LOT of you wanted to see 'Culture shocked' Damian, and I kinda did too, but then I realized at Five, EVERY kid is having culture shock. Like, 'what do you mean I'm not allowed to throw spaghetti against the wall?', 'explain to me again, what is wrong with putting this particular object in my mouth? It this other one okay? No? Then how about that one?'. For Damian, his learning curve is from an actual different society, but he would actually fit in pretty well in trying to learn American customs while at school because at 5, that's what his classmates are also learning. So, sorry for the disappointment.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Good Luck, Dami'. I'll accept it.)


	12. Damian's Reckoning

**A/N:** Hello. I Have NO excuse for why this took so long, . . .

My Robin Reversal AU:

Damian - 18

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Damian's Reckoning

"You talk as if you don't need Nightling around! Do you know how many times you would have died if not for me?"

"I did just fine without Nightling before. You're a hero in training, don't overestimate yourself."

"I'm eighteen years old, Father, and I have been 'training' my whole life!"

"Fighting well is only one part of what it takes out there. You need more life experience."

"More life experience? I have eleven years of life experience on the streets! That's only five years less than you!"

"My answer is final, Damian, and if you have a problem with that then Nightling is benched for the rest of the month!"

"Benched? What, are you grounding me? At eighteen?"

"I'll ground you at forty! Nightling isn't going out, that's final."

Damian wasn't even sure how this argument started. He wasn't even sure what he had hoped for when it did. He did know that he had had enough and marched his way up the stairs to his room. His first reaction to being grounded was admittedly juvenile. Mainly due to having been treated like a child for so long he honestly forgot that he was now an adult. Damian kicked his wastebasket, threw himself to his bed, and screamed into his pillow until the air was out of his lungs.

After Damian settled down a bit, he turned over and let himself go back over how he 'lost' the fight he just had with his father. The realization that he hadn't yet had him sitting up in his bed wide-eyed. He hadn't lost yet, not really. The only way he'd actually lose is if he let his father continue to walk all over him. He had been letting his father stunt his growth as both a man and a hero for too long and it was time Damian left for his own.

* * *

It only took a couple of days for Damian to find a place in the seedier parts of Bludhaven. He had at first thought of finding something more appropriate for someone of his status, but one of his father's most frequent arguments against his abilities was that Damian had lived his whole life as a 'prince' in one form or another, he had no clue how to be a commoner nor did he understand them. So Damian chose someplace where he would be forced to live among them for the unforeseeable future.

Those first couple of days were utter hell as the learning curve turned out to be much steeper than he had anticipated. But acting and improvisation were two of the many useful skills Alfred Pennyworth had to teach him, and while actually getting used to this new world, Damian was quick to fake it. After he made 'nice' with the neighbors; the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Lewis that lived to his right, the consistently stoned Zach, Megan, and Chris across the hall, and Bill the veteran from just to the left of them, Damian was actually starting to grow a decent support system for his alias 'Devin Wells'.

It took a couple more days, however, for Damian to get his new alter ego settled in. As it turned out, Bludhaven wasn't in the market for a new vigilante, despite its desperate need for one. 'Shadowbat' was first deemed a public menace for the very moment he tried to save a young girl from being attacked in a dark alleyway. He learned to appreciate all the hard work his father had to do to get the city of Gotham to trust him. Unfortunately, Damian couldn't seem to figure it out. He would save the victim with minimal harm to the criminal, but nearly every time, the criminal was the one asked to press charges against 'Shadowbat'.

After a month had gone by, Damian managed to get his new life into something that resembled a steady rhythm, and that was when he saw it. On his way to another job interview for a local shop, he was trying to keep to a theme, Damian passed by an Electronics Store. The advertised t.v.'s were all on the news and showing the same story:

 _Batman & Nightling save Burnstein Charity Gala from Penguin's latest scheme!_

The anchor was live, and the story was new, and Damian saw red.

* * *

*a/n**

* * *

Damian drove back into Bludhaven in a blind rage. He didn't greet Sally taking a smoke by the apartment stairs, he marched straight past Zach and Megan as they stumbled with arms filled with groceries. He completely ignored Mrs. Lewis' offer to bring him some leftover casserole. He wasn't in his apartment long, just a quick strut through to the back toward the case he kept in the vent behind the bed. After a quick costume change, it was out the window facing the dark alley and into the night.

It wasn't hard for him to find some criminals in need of a face smashing. Not in Bludhaven. Damian got into a pattern as he made his way downtown and back around. About his fifth petty crime in, he took a small breather atop of a skyscraper roof. He kept a vigilance as he rested, making calculations in his head on where the most efficient place would be to go next.

"If you continue the way you are now, it will only serve to make you an easy target in the future," an unwelcome voice spoke from behind him. Snarling, Damian turned on his heel to the other parent that had betrayed him.

"Mother." Damian stepped down from the ledge he had previously perched upon and stood his full height to face down the woman. While his father's recent transgression was painful and all he could think about at the moment, he hadn't forgotten the wicked woman's misdeeds either.

"New look? I will admit, it does better at intimidation as well as concealing your presences," Talia AlGhul said as she stepped forward to stand only mere feet from her son. The son she had almost killed the last they met. A meeting that took place five years ago.

"What do you want?" Damian growled at her.

"I want to know why you let this happen." Damian's snarled lip and grounding teeth only seemed to push her onward as opposed to his intentions. "When I sent you to your father, it was to see whom you would try to prove yourself to; your father, or the league. Should you have taken the opportunity for subterfuge you would have no doubt impressed your grandfather. Unfortunately, you took the alternative route. You chose to side with the Batman and learn his ways, to impress _him_."

"He was there for me, he was willing to teach me. _You_ threw me away and expected me to come groveling back!" Damian argued.

"And what about now? Has he not done the same as I? Have you not been thrown aside in favor of fresh blood, someone who is even less inclined to oppose him?"

"Quiet. You do not get to speak as if you are any better than him!" Damian was now shouting, and it irritated him that she was still as calm as ever.

"You left, Damian. Your mission was to betray your father and return to us. Do not act as if you hadn't eventually come to realize that. You were always expected to come home. Your father has replaced you at the first sign of insubordination, and yet, despite all the ways you have betrayed us, we still have a place for you in the league. Your place, as it was, as it will always be." Talia opened her arms as if to invite Damian in for an embrace. Damian took a step backward. Once a person began to hear the snake-like lilt in his mother's voice, there was no confusing her ilk for anything savory again. He knew she was up to something. She always was. And she was never against using her own child as a tool to get it.

"I won't go groveling back to him," Damian readied his stance, "So I sure as hell won't go groveling back to _you_!"

With that, the fight was on. Damian threw a bola for the woman that had no less than seven warrants out for her arrest in New Jersey alone. Talia dodged to the side before launching herself at his feet. Damian went to fall to the side to avoid his mother but ended up nearly tripping over the ledge of the fifty-foot skyscraper. Talia wasn't giving him any time to right himself as she took advantage of his unbalance and sideswiped her foot at his, knocking any leverage he might have had and sending him over. Or would have if not for the grip he had with his hands. The angle of his arms keeping his back down to the building and allowing him to bend his elbow before throwing himself toward the middle of the rooftop and off the ledge, instead of off the building entirely. The action had him stumble a little and Talia was quick to lunge for his back.

Damian hadn't moved fast enough to dodge the woman and she quickly wound her arm around his neck, putting him in a tight sleeper hold. With his air and blood circulation mostly cut off, Damian had to act on instinct. Using brute strength to pull them both to their feet, Damian noted that she was using her right arm around his neck and her left to keep it firm. With her leverage on her left, Damian moved his left foot and placed it behind her right, then he ducked down, pulling her over him. As he turned his head he grabbed her right hand and twisted it behind her as he pulled himself from her grasp. Taking his fluid motion to its end, he kicked the back of her knee and slammed his fist to the side of her temple to keep her down.

Before he could get another hit in, she spun on her knee to the right, forcing his arm to twist in a compromising position. With his grip already awkward and failing, she then threw her fist into the tense tendon of his hand, spraining it and forcing him to let her go in one. Not taking a moment to let himself feel the pain, he instead used his elbow to hit her head from the top. Not wasting the momentum, he let his arm continue down until it was in position to move to a proper right hook toward her chin and knocking her on her back.

Just as he took a step forward to continue his attack, she pushed all her weight to her shoulders and threw herself to her feet. Suddenly faced with the deadly assassin properly, it was pure instinct that had Damian move his stance to defense just in time to block a harsh series of blows to his body. Arms aching, but vitals protected, Damian finally saw a break in her pattern and managed to grab her wrist, spinning his body and throwing her over himself and hard onto the concrete rooftop. Talia let out a gasp as the air left her lungs.

Damian twisted the wrist that he had a hold of and bend her elbow to trap her neck. He grabbed her other arm quickly and pinned it similarly across her chest. To avoid her trying to gain leverage from the hold, Damian put all his weight on her by straddling her midsection.

"Get, out, of my, city!" Damian growled down at her.

Talia laughed, "Does it feel like that time you found your father's cape? Wearing it around and pretending you were all grown up? Claiming a city you are completely foreign to as your own, just so you can be like him."

"Shut up!" Damian screamed. His heart was pounding in his chest and his eyes burned. He was a grown-up adult. It was his choice to leave the league. It was his choice to leave Gotham. Yet, she was right, it felt like one big game of pretend, and he hated it.

"You are still just an unwanted child, trying to convince everyone he has a place to belong." Her words lashed at him in a way he didn't want to admit. He tightened his grip on her, pushing down even harder as if pinning her better would get her to be quiet. "You think that you'll earn anyone's respect like this? A new name, a new costume, a new city. But everything else is the same pathetic excuse for an heir. No birthright, no family, nothing!"

Damian, so focused on his mother's scathing words and trying to keep her arms where they were, didn't pay any attention to the shifting of her body beneath him as her feet came up around his neck and pulled him back. With the majority of his weight off of her, Talia managed to free her right hand. Instead of going for yet another strategic attack, Talia simply went for a hidden dagger on her thigh and slashed and used the movement of her sitting up to slash at her son's chest.

It was the kevlar in his suit that saved him. The dagger only managed to cut through and leave a thin slice but left no damaged beyond what was skin deep. It was an otherwise killing blow. She was finally done talking.

Good, Damian was done listening.

Rolling in a backward summersault before pushing to his feet, Damian moved back into a boxer stance. Talia did the same, giving a small flourish as she spun the dagger in her hand, back fisting the blade. She wasn't planning to fight fairly, so neither was he. He knew this city. Maybe not as well as the citizens, and maybe not as well as he knew Gotham, but he knew it a lot more than she did. He also knew that while over the edge of the building his side was straight down to the street, he knew what laid in wait on the other.

Talia's eyes never left him as he raced forward at her. Just as she moved to ready her position for a counter attack with the blade, striking downward at his cloak, Damian redirected to the right and continued on for the other side of the building. Talia, not expecting the redirection actually stumbled. She corrected herself and made a chase for her son only to stop as she watched him dive head first off the side of the building. She knew what gadgets his father had outfitted him with and assumed the boy was making his retreat. Talia threw her nose in the air at his cowardice and turned to make her own exit. The sudden rush of noise stopped. Just as she turned to investigate what the sound was, a crane outfitted with a claw was quickly swinging around from the building Damian had just jumped to. Talia was confused at first as there wasn't any way that he could actually think he could _hit_ her with the metal claw. But as she was about to react to what she thought was a poor attempt at a hit, the claw opened in midswing, throwing a whole load of gravel at her and onto the rooftop. Having been more focused on dodging the metal claw than it's hidden cargo, Talia found herself half buried.

Quickly shooting a line over and returning to the skyscraper rooftop, Damian found his mother already free from the pile of tiny rocks. The gravel did some damage, however, and he could see blood from where impact actually broke skin. He expected a long-winded lecture about fighting with honor but instead found his mother giving what could only be described as a proud smile.

"Perhaps, you will thrive in your new environment after all," she mused. Before Damian could respond, a thick smoke surrounded her and caused him to choke and cough. By the time he managed to get clear of the smoke, she was, as he had expected, gone.

Damian hated that his heart swelled with a bit of pride to have at least one of his parents acknowledge him, and he hated it even more that it was his mother of all people. In the end, he decided it didn't matter. Bludhaven was his city, and whether or not it made anyone proud of him, he was going to protect it. That was his true purpose for being after all.

* * *

 **A/N:** *This is where the first flashback in 'Bound With Regret' took place.

I hope you all enjoyed that fight scene. I do enjoy writing them and may end up writing more. Please let me know if you thought it could do with less detail.

This marks the end of the Damian Trilogy, sorry it took me so long to wrap it up. It really didn't go the way I kept planning it. Talia has a pretty strange way of throwing me through the left feild...

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'We're With You, Dami'. I'll accept it.)


	13. A Rough St Patrick's Day

**A/N:** Legit, I have another chapter almost done, but then I got this amazing idea for a St. Patrick's day Chapter, so here is the Holiday Speical and the happy news that I'm already almost done with chapter 14! : D Drink responsibly my Of-Age friends!

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason - 14 Bruce - 39

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: A Rough St. Patties Day

Bruce sat attentively while the visitors from S. Korea made their pitch as to why a merger with their company was a good investment. So far Bruce had already decided to go ahead and go through with it, mainly based off of his own private research of the corporation. While the company in question wasn't entirely clean, it was fairly honest and was true about their waste reduction practices. Even then, most of their 'dirty laundry' was petty grade school stuff in comparison to the typical corruption Bruce was used to dealing with. Nothing he didn't know how to clean up.

However, courtesy dictated that Bruce let the presenters give the pitch they have, no doubt, been practicing for so long. Bruce kept his eyes on the smiling pair as the duo worked together to keep things running smoothly. Shame it was ruined when Bruce's secretary came bursting through the door and all but ran over to him. Frantic, she handed him a sticky note with the school's number on it with the word 'URGENT' scribbled at the top. Bruce's gut dropped.

"Sir, Mr. Pennyworth just called. Your son, Jason, has disappeared from school." Bruce hardly gave her a chance to finish whispering before he was on his feet and out the door. He could somewhat hear her addressing the board with the vaguest details about his family emergency. Bruce honestly didn't care what they thought, all he could think was, "dear God, please not again!"

Once in the stairwell, Bruce practically jumped straight down the center of the spiral, jumping to railings every now and then to keep from dropping a fatal distance. He exited straight into the parking garage and right into his car, peeling out as he began to dial the school on his cell.

"Gotham Academy-"

"This is Bruce Wayne. I've just heard my son, Jason Todd, went missing?" Bruce interrupted.

"Mr. Wayne, yes, well, you see, uh," the secretary stammered and Bruce could hear the shifting of papers. "We have some reports from a couple of students stating they saw Jason Todd leaving school grounds during lunch. He was then counted absent from Mrs. Banshaw's class. He's not on school property and thus is now truant. Unless we get a slip signed excusing his early dismissal, I'm afraid this will go on his permanent record." Bruce tried to piece together what all these clues might mean.

"So he, just, left?" He had to ask again.

"I'm afraid so." Bruce gritted his teeth as a clearer and more likely scenario came to the forefront of his mind. He better be wrong, or that boy was grounded for the rest of his life.

"Thank you. I'll take it from here." With that, Bruce hung up and tossed his phone to the passenger seat. He then opened his glove box to retrieve a smalled tracking device of the same size as the discarded phone. Activating the tracker with a flick of a small switch on the side, Bruce ticked through the four options he had programmed into it until he got to the very last, and most recent, one; 'JTodd'.

Once the GPS on the tracker loaded, Bruce could see that Jason, or his watch with a tracer in it, showed him to be at Robinson Park. It wasn't exactly where he had feared the boy had been, but not too far off, either. Turning off on the exit, the Lambo hit dramatic speeds as he raced toward his rebellious charge.

* * *

Bruce walked around Robinson Park with his tracking device in hand, letting people believe he was just texting, as he tried to pinpoint where the little red dot was trying to lead him. It was as he neared a small row of trees that he heard a 'sniffle' that Bruce realized he was close. Walking around one of the larger trees, Bruce first saw a bottle of Irish Creme Whiskey, half empty and discarded on the ground without its lid. Biting down on his anger for the moment, Bruce kept moving toward the sniffling until he saw his little delinquent.

Jason, for his part, was curled up on himself at the base of the large tree, hugging his knees as he shook with sniffs and sobs, that helped Bruce put his anger on the back burner. Tapping into patience he didn't know he had, Bruce calmly walked over to Jason's side and placed a steadying hand on his back.

"I-I gu-guess you'll be throwing me, me out now *hic*," Jason muttered with stutters and slurs. Bruce could tell from the smell on him that Jason was indeed the one who drank the whiskey bottle on the ground.

"No, Jason. I'm disappointed, don't mistake that, but I'm not going to give up on you for one misstep," Bruce tried to soothe him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so f**king sorry, Bruce." Jason seemed to hug himself tighter as he apologized. "I, it wasn't like I really wanted to. It's not cool, I know that."

"Then why did you do it?" Bruce asked. He watched as another set of sobs wrecked Jason's body before the boy was able to take a large, calming breath and explain.

"I hated him. I still hate him," Jason started. Bruce already knew where this was going. It had only been five months ago that news came to the Wayne household of Willis Todd's death. He was trampled during a prison riot. Jason never once showed anything beyond 'smug satisfaction' since. ' _Karma at work, I say_ ,' was his only response. Alfred had been predicting that the pre-teen had been in denial the entire time. Looked like the old man was right.

"He was still your father, Jason."

"Some father!" Jason shouted bitterly. "He was mean! He was never there! He always went behind Mom's back and spent all her money." Jason started sniffling again and Bruce started to rub gentle circles on his back.

"If that was the only thing, then why are you here?" Bruce asked. He noticed that Jason's weight was slowly shifting to rest against him. He knew better than to make any movement or mention of it.

"It's dumb," Jason replied. "It was just some dumb stupid thing. But even so, it was our dumb stupid thing. He, Dad was always so mean. He was even worse when he was drunk, but not on Saint Patrick's Day. Maybe it was the holiday, maybe it was the type of liquor, but he was actually kind of nice on St. Patrick's day."

Bruce sat quietly as Jason rambled. He knew the boy just needed him to sit there and listen. Even so, his heart was aching for Jason, and he hated that there wasn't really anything he _could_ do for him. He can't change the past, after all.

"Dad, he would give me some. Just a taste, help me get used to it for when I 'became a man'. Crap like that, you know? It was never enough to really have any effect. Just a taste," Jason continued. "It was gross. I hated the flavor. But Dad was being nice, so I'd drink it, every time." Bruce felt the anger start to rear it's head again. This time, it was at that good for nothing Willis Todd. Bruce shoved it to the side in favor of more reasonable thinking.

"Jason, you have to know that this isn't a tradition you can continue on. Not for another seven years at least," Bruce didn't know if his timing was right on this front of not, but there was no turning back now.

"That's, no, it's not a tradition, Bruce. I was," Jason let out a long, drawn out, drunken sigh. "I was saying 'good-bye', I guess. You know, to the one part of him I'll actually miss." Now that was a knife in his gut.

"Let's get you home, Jay." Bruce didn't get a response from his adopted son, but the way all of Jason's weight officially fell onto him let him know the boy was expecting to be carried. Bruce couldn't help but give a sad smile and oblige. Lifting the boy in his arms, Bruce started for his car to take the boy home.

"When you've sobered up, we're going to talk about where you got the alcohol from," he warned as they neared his vehicle.

"Sure thing, Dad," Jason mumbled sleepily. Bruce about dropped him from shock. Sure, Damian called him 'father', but that was as far as Bruce ever got to being called 'dad'. It was weird, and he never really thought about it before, but Bruce decided he might like 'Dad' better. It felt more personal.

"You rest now, Son."

* * *

 **A/N:** I was going to add more to it, but then I decided I liked the ending right where it's at, . . . and not at all because I was too lazy to continue it farther into the next morning.

So, I realized after reading back through the previous chapters, the only time Jason ever calls out to Bruce is in 'Rabid Teacher's Pet', which would take place before this one. I was considering taking advantage of that and have Jason be the only one of the brothers that has a habit of calling Bruce 'Dad'. (Damian will always call him 'father', which seems kinda formal and distancing to me, but I don't think that Damian sees it that way. That could also be a good portion of their issues right there.) But then again, that might be going too far with minor details. Meh, I'll leave that to popular vote.

R&R if you liked. (Need a default response? Just say 'Happy St. Patrick's Day!'. I'll take it.)


	14. Four's a Pair prt 1

**A/N:** My Bestfriend of ten years got married yesterday, and I got to be one of her brides' maids! So I've had to do a fair bit of traveling and not much writing. Good news is that this was done BEFORE I left. I'll give the second half to you guys in a few days when I get back home. So no later than the 28th. :-D

My Robin Reversal AU:

Tim - 18 Stephanie - 18 Bruce - 41

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: Four's a Pair part 1

Stephanie walked into the study in Wayne Manor. Considering it was her turn to be on the outs with the Boss, it was pretty ballsy of her. She and Bruce just had another argument about how to do the job. Mainly; he didn't approve of her 'jump first - strategize second' method to her work, and she didn't feel like she _needed_ his approval. Now she was deleted from his system, all the locks and passcodes had been changed, and everyone in the family had been ordered to leave her out of any loop.

And order that exactly zero of his 'subordinates' followed.

Damian made sure she knew the new channel on the coms. Jason told her the new passcodes to the manor. Cass kept asking Steph to read her mission debrief to her, and requesting her aid. Lastly, Dick would send her text messages updating her on how Bruce was doing outside of 'the Batman'. Oh, and let's not forget Alfred, who had just let her into the manor when she knocked on the door just a minute ago.

Stephanie bravely made her way through the secret grandfather clock passageway, into the Batcave. Marching down the stairs with a purpose. She came to a dead stop when she saw a dark-haired man at the bat-computer. Instincts made her freeze, but on closer inspection, she couldn't help the large grin that spread across her face.

"And here I thought I'd have the cave to myself for a bit," she 'complained' as she walked up behind his chair.

"Funny, I thought the same," Tim muttered as he clicked on a new application. Steph saw that a loading bar came up on the screen. She looked closer at what Tim had just started and noticed it was the fingerprints database, Tim had a partial print that was being systematically compared to all registered criminals and felons.

"What's your case?" Steph asked curiously.

"From your tone, I assume you have one of your own?" Tim deduced.

"Yep, now spill."

"Art Heist. Not something I'd normally go after, but the group guarding it worked for Roman Sionis."

"Black Mask," Steph added, recognizing the civilian name of the masked crime lord.

"It's priceless, . . . and completely worthless," Tim continued, "It's a hideous piece made by a dying artist named Kreg Keleb. He had suffered a stroke so severe it forever damaged the spinal nerves that sent neuro signals to his fingers. In short, he lost his ability to paint like he used to. He made five paintings since, trying to develop a new style. Not one was successful."

"Huh, weird," Steph pulled out her own evidence bag, "I've got a stolen painting, too."

"By Kreg Keleb?"

Steph riffled through the bad until she pulled out a gallery tag and read it out loud. "Horizontal Kaleidoscope, by Keleb."

"That's our guy," Tim announced with a furrowed brow. "Think it was the same perp?"

"Maybe, how long ago was yours?" Steph asked, trying to set a timeline.

"Eleven o'clock last night," Tim answered. "Yours?"

"Same," Stephanie said as she bit on her bottom lip. "Maybe a group? I mean, it can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"It can always be a coincidence. Just because it's improbable doesn't make it impossible," Tim lectured.

"So, what? You think the same guy was in the Bowery at the same time as the North End?"

"Let's just analyze what we have and _then_ apply common sense."

Stephanie shrugged and pulled out a few print pads she had used at her crime scene. "Here are my guy's fingers," she said as she handed them to Tim. He took them and placed them in the scanner with the prints he already had going. After clicking open a new window and setting a new program to compare the two, it only took the computer five minutes to compare the two samples.

"A match. Same guy," Tim announced.

"What? No, it can't be! There's a thirty-minute drive between the two locations. Unless he was a teleporter or a time traveler?" Stephanie gasped, "Oh my gosh! You don't think it was Dr. Who, do you?"

"You make me regret sharing my interests with you, you realize that?" Tim muttered as he gave her a half-hearted glare. Stephanie shrugged and pulled up an on-screen map of Gotham.

"Still, it's a legitimate question. How could this possibly be the same guy? And what's more, why is he stealing priceless art that no-one wants?" Steph pointed out.

"Good questions," Tim replied before full out glaring over her shoulder. "Have any ideas?"

Steph furrowed her brow and checked behind herself. She half expected to see Damian, Alfred, or hell, even Cassandra. Her heart nearly stopped to see Bruce.

"Bha! Dick said you had a board meeting today!" Bruce narrowed his eyes at her.

"So, that's why you were trying to get to the Batcomputer so quickly," Tim realized in a lazy voice. "I was wondering why you were rushing."

"Whatever. I got enough information to work with. Same guy, same time, two locations."

"Three." The sudden addition caused Steph to falter as she tried to gather her stuff.

"What?" Bruce didn't speak again just yet, but he pulled up a window that had been minimized under Tim's work. The image alone told Steph what he was getting at.

"So, art thieving triplets? I mean, I know they can't _really_ be triplets, but like-" Steph didn't even know how to finish her sentence.

There was a quiet moment of contemplation before Tim abruptly stood up. Stephanie about said something until she saw the way his shoulders were tensed up and his hands were flexing at the fingers. He must be hearing JJ again. He always did around Bruce.

"I'll leave this to you two then," he declared as he walked to his motorcycle.

"Tim!" Steph called for him.

"It's not _my_ case anymore," was all he said before he started up his bike and peeled out of the cave.

* * *

Steph walked along the museum with a pair of shades on her face and a pair of headphones in her ears. It was the same museum where Horizontal Kaleidoscope was stolen, but there also seemed to be something off about the other paintings as well. She let herself bob her head up and down a little as if she was actually listing to music. She then adjusted the pair of sunglasses as she looked up at a painting on the wall of the museum.

"Yes, right there is perfect, Miss Stephanie," Alfred's voice called through the headphones. Steph stilled as she watched the lenses go through a few settings as the butler toggled between the typical ones. He stopped at the radiation detector as the painting started to glow a bright red in it's otherwise darker surroundings. "My goodness, the thing is practically made out of radiation."

 _"Hey, Marlo."_

 _"Welcome back, Bruce. What brings you by?"_

 _"In all the excitement last night I didn't get a chance to admire your collection."_

 _"Come on, we both know that's not why you're here. Who can resist a mystery? You want to see the closet for yourself."_

 _"Guilty as charged."_

 _"Be my guest."_

"Wait, what?" Steph muttered under her breath and into the headphones mic.

"Another assailant had attacked at. John Marlo's art gallery last night, right in front of a whole audience before ducking into a closet and vanishing," Alfred explained. "Readings are coming in, Master Bruce. Interesting, we're picking up low spectrum radioactivity in that closet. The same activity Miss Stephanie seems to be finding at the museum."

 _"Thanks for indulging me, John."_

 _"Not a problem."_

 _"Closet aside, I do have an anterior motive for coming in today. I'm worried about you."_

 _"Really?"_

Feeling awkward, Steph decided to follow the 'chem trial' toward another painting. Just like the first, it was practically glowing with radiation. That's when Steph noticed it. Stuck right in the crevice of the frame was a strand of hair. Fingerprints were all well and good, heck, they were the best for evidence. Most of America had their prints on record for some reason or another, good or bad. But if that someone, say an art thief that has managed to be in three places at once, managed to go his whole life without being put on record, there really was nothing to compare it to. But who hasn't pulled the 'there's a stray hair on your shirt, just let me get that for you-' bit, before?

While there was no database with collected hair from nearly everyone all over the country, it would make eliminating suspects a lot easier. Only if Steph could get her hands on it. Something told her the good ol' 'there's a stray hair on this priceless, heavily guarded, and recently almost stolen piece of art' wasn't going to work here.

"Alfred, you seeing what I'm seeing?" Steph muttered under her breath.

"If you mean to the lower right-hand corner, than yes, Miss Stephanie, I believe I do."

"Can you think of a way to get me to it?" Steph asked.

"I can think of a couple. If you would begrudge me one moment."

 _"Something's different, John. The party? The way you tried to take on that masked thief? Even the way you talk. It isn't you."_

 _"What's the matter, Brucie?! Scared of a little social competition? People change! I'm sorry if I no longer fit into some comfortable role you once defined for me."_

 _"I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry."_

 _"It's fine. Truth is, I have been a little all over the place lately, . . ."_

"Oh, my." Alfred's gentle interjection did nothing for Steph's nerves.

"Alfred?" She called, worried.

"It's nothing for the moment, Miss Stephanie. Now then, about that distraction, . . ." No sooner did Alfred finish his sentence did fire alarms go off around the museum. Everyone first started a mad scramble, not sure where the fire was and where was safe to go. The guard closest to Steph quickly made his way to the farther guard, trying to discretely motion to his walkie while making a slicing motion. A quick glance at the nearby security camera and Steph could see the red light flicker then die as footage was cut. Trying to keep it looking natural as if she had been shoved across the rope, Steph swiftly snatched up the hair and then made her exit out with a few dozen startled Gothamites.

At first, she thought how silly it was for them to be all worked up by a fire alarm until she overheard some girls muttering to each other.

"Who do you think it was this time? Penguin? Two-Face?"

"I don't know, and don't care. I'm just happy to get out before I became a hostage."

Suddenly the panic she just caused didn't seem so silly to her anymore. Steph really hoped that the little hair would give her something to justify scaring so many people.

* * *

"Alfred said you've recovered a hair from a radiated painting at the museum." And that was her greeting upon returning to the Batcave.

"Yeah. A little tricky, but then again, you do have all the best tricks hidden away here. Anyone ever tell you how 'O.P.' your programming skills are?"

"I managed to get a hair off of John before I left. If we compare the two then I might be able to eliminate him as a potential suspect," Bruce continued on as if he didn't hear her.

"Suspect? Good Lord, Master Bruce, I would think Mr. Marlo has as tight of an alibi as it gets. After all, he was saved from the thief by none other than the Batman himself!" Alfred cried out.

"Except, it might be an accomplice dressed up and helping Marlo, or even Marlo using some time traveling tech, or something," Steph pointed out. When both men gave her a strange look she just shrugged. "Hey, I'm not letting that one go. It's not like we haven't seen weirder by now."

Not letting up on his 'look', Bruce took the hair samples to the computer to run a comparison diagnostic on them. While they were scanning, he and Steph went over the video recordings of the other's findings. Through this, they were _supposed_ to exchange ideas, but as it usually was with Bruce, he did most of the giving ideas and Steph was constantly shut down on hers. It was near around the time that Alfred had set the security in the museum on the scramble that Steph saw what had startled him from Bruce's feed.

When Bruce went to thank Marlo for letting him see the closet, Bruce's shades got a good look at his host, and how he too seemed completely covered in radiation.

"Sir, I'm afraid the hair was a match. It would seem John Marlo is indeed the main suspect." With that Bruce hung his head and sighed.

"Very well then. Let's go."

* * *

Before Steph knew it, the two were jumping rooftops toward, some random skyscraper in the sea of the like. "Alright, confused now."

"Marlo's company has been conducting experiments in quantum theory for the government." Spoiler felt relief that Batman felt in the mood to share for once.

"Okay, so that explains why he's radioactive, but what's with the not stolen paintings at the museum and the worthless priceless art by Keleb going missing?"

Batman didn't seem to have an answer, moving a hand to change the settings on his lens' of his cowl. "I'm getting two radiation hot spots in the building. I'll go high, you go low."

"And away we go!" Spoiler called out as she grappled on over to the nearest entry point she could get to on the building. Easily enough she found an external vent. Unfortunately for her, Marlo thought to have its security checked and censored. Meaning that while it would be a good entry point for her, it was going to take her a couple of minutes to hack through and disarm it, especially since she'll first need to find an external control panel that she can plug into and run the auto hack through. It took her a bit, but she was able to find the next best thing just a few feet above and to the left, a power box.

With little trouble, Spoiler was able to pop the fuse box and run her auto hacker, turning off the power to the outer vent. From there it was smooth sailing as she used some of the simpler tools in her belt to pry open the vent and then crawl through. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, and something she would have been better suited for about five years ago, but here she was, shimming through the vents like a ceiling snake.

Just as she made it around a wide bend she could hear two men below her. Going a few more feet to a grate in the vent, she could see they were both dressed head to toe in an orange costume with a thick white line straight down the middle with a lower case 'e' on both their faces and chests. The only other detail on either of them was the black wrist band covered in buttons that fit around their whole forearms.

"Batman has been taken into custody, but he may have a partner or two already in the building."

"So what's our priority?"

"Securing the prisoner."

"We might need more men."

"Then we'll make more."

With that, they both simultaneously pressed a button on their wrist bands and suddenly a human-sized light appeared to stretch from each of them before becoming another person altogether. Where two stood, now there were four. Then all four began to march off in the direction Spoiler could only guess was where they were keeping Batman.

"Okay, so my time traveler theory was a little off, . . . Welp, time to bust out Bats." With that, Spoiler popped the grate and jumped down.

Keeping to the shadows and ducking around corners, Spoiler managed to keep unsee, or at least she had yet to here 'hey you, stop right there'. But she did see the four marching up to a heavily secured door with a John Marlo copy sitting in front it, reading a magazine.

Once they were close enough Spoiler could hear one of the four inquire about 'the prisoner'.

"Secure inside," was the only response the unmasked John Marlo gave as he jabbed a thumb toward Batman's cell. Spoiler gave it another scrutinizing look before she noticed a security camera live and pointed straight down the hall where she was tucked just around the corner or. She had the strangest feeling that Alfred wasn't going to be able to just bug out the cameras again as he did in the museum. Thankfully, she wasn't in civvies and surrounded by guards and bystanders.

Readying a throwing knife, Spoiler took a deep breath before she jumped from the corner and sent her weapon flying. She managed to hit the camera dead on, but also managed to attract the attention of all five John Marlos. Busting into a run, Spoiler jumped to kick off the wall to give more force to her punch to the Marlo on the far right. He was out cold in one hit, same with the Marlo she had spun kicked from the moment she landed back to the floor. With similar ease in taking down the other three, Spoiler realized that this guy was really going to try and win by numbers alone.

Rolling her eyes, Spoiler hooked up her handy-dandy auto hacker and squared her shoulders at that satisfying *click* sound of a lock unlocking itself. "Hold on Batman, I'm almost to you."

Just then the door swung ajar enough for her to push it open the rest of the way, showing a dark room with a lone resident inside. However, one look at his bright red hair and gaunt figure, Spoiler felt her jaw drop. "You're not Batman!"

"No. I'm John, John Marlo," the man weakly introduced himself. Spoiler quickly ran inside to help the man stand. He was rail thin and looked pasty white.

"Holy cow, how long have you been in here?" She asked.

"No clue. None of the 'Everywhere's would tell me anything," John said.

"So you're the original? The one who started all of this?"

"Unfortunately. It started when my quantum field research led to my invention of something I came to call 'the Quamtex'."

"Nice name."

"I thought it was clever. With it, I could charge my quantum particles and replicate another me. My replicas can also split at will. There's also a way for the wearer of a device to recall all the duplicates that any particular clone had made and all those from that one."

"Like cutting a branch from a tree?"

"Fitting analogy. It doesn't even matter the distance."

"Wait, so that's how that art thief disappeared at the art show. He was just recalled by another Marlo." Spoiler put together the new pieces of information. "Wait, could it duplicate objects as well?"

"Easily," O.G. Marlo assured her.

"So that's what he was doing. The weird readings on the paintings, he was duplicating them and stealing the originals. But, why not do the same for Kreg Keleb's work?" Spoiler asked.

"Huh? Kreg Keleb? The artist who had that stroke? It's a touching story, really, but the work was just horrendous. I don't know what Everywhere would want to do with it in the first place," John scratched his head.

"So how did you end up in a cell if all these, what do you keep calling them? Everywheres? If all these Everywheres are copies of you, then why don't they listen to you?"

"Mainly cause they only listen to my first copy. He was my 'breakthrough' as it were. I kept him around to be my lab partner, literally cut my research time in half. Unfortunately, there was a side effect I didn't foresee." John's voice got a little dark here. "You see, if you keep a clone around long enough, they develop a sense of 'free will'. And with each copy, they only seem to get darker and darker."

Suddenly an overhead com could be heard through the cell door. " **Attention, Everywhere Men! The Batman is loose in the building! you know the drill! Divide and Concur!** "

"Alright, time to go!" Spoiler declared, rushing to the door. Just in time to see at least six Everywheres become twelve. They all started to scramble the opposite direction giving her and John just enough time to duck out of the cell and down a hall.

"This way! There's something that might help in my lab," John directed her.

" **Fill the corridors! Find the Bat! Exterminate it!** "

The two managed to duck around the corner to an empty office just as two more Everywheres went from four, to eight, to sixteen. They had to wait a second for the hall to clear before they could get to the lab. Spoiler could clearly see it just a few feet away.

" **By the end of the day, he is but one man. But we? We are an Army!** "

Just as the clones fled the hallway from the left, another set passed through from the right and had another set just behind them.

"Argh, we'll never make it over there by this rate," Spoiler growled under her breath.

"What do we do?" Marlo asked from behind her. Spoiler didn't have an answer for him. The last of the Everywheres finally cleared out and the hero decided it was time for a 'now or never' tactic. Quickly, she grabbed Marlo by his arm and made a mad dash to the lab door, only for it to be locked.

"Crap. Have the key?" She asked the scientist himself.

"Um, no? Kinda been locked up for a couple of months?" He reminded her.

"Oh, right, drat." Spoiler studied the lock really quick to see it was a traditional manual kind. Great. Just her luck. Electronic locks? Easy peasy, plug-in and auto-hackies. She knew how to do it the old-fashioned way, she just wasn't as practiced at it anymore. Trying to let herself just fall into muscle memory, Spoiler pulled out her picking tools and tried to count the pins with her tension wrench to tell which other tools she'd need to open it.

"Maybe he's down this way?" A voice could be heard at the far end of the hall.

"Not to sound rude, but can you speed it up?" Marlo asked.

"Can you pick a lock?" Spoiler responded.

"Um, uh, no, sorry," Marlo backed down.

"Damn, I actually kinda wish you could, . . ."

"Wait, what?"

"You know what? I'll just pull out my handy-dandy rake pick, it's never failed me," Spoiler said decidedly, ignoring how nervous she was making her rescued hostage. "Well, except for the many times it did, . . ."

"Is, is this to get back at me for rushing you?" Marlo's voice was the picture of panic already.

"I think I hear voices!" There were footsteps now, fast and thunderous. Spoiler was able to count no less than five pins and had to wiggle the rake back and forth a bit before she managed to get the lock to turn. By the time she got the door itself open, there were five Everywhere Men rushing them.

"Get in, I'll cover you!" She called out. She didn't really need to as she was also actively shoving him into the lab before closing the door behind him.

"Get her! She's with Batman!"

"He brought a girl this time, huh?"

"What was this one's name again?"

"Who cares? No one will be calling for her after tonight!"

"Um, rude!" Spoiler called out as she quickly went into fighting stance. Same as the pitiful attempt to subdue her before went. Spoiler was able to knock each of the Marlo-Clones out quickly before she followed the real John Marlo into the lab.

"Here! Try this!" Marlo rushed over to her while holding a large device with straps on it. Blinking at it a couple of times and then the frantic look on Marlo's face Spoiler took the device in her hands.

"Alright, what is it?" She asked.

"It's a-"

" **Batman has been spotted by the atrium! All Everywhere Men to the Atrium!** "

"Skip it, we've got to hurry. You swear this will help, then strap me in!" Spoiler decided. Marlo quickly went to work bucking her in and giving her the basic instructions of how to operate it.

Looks like it's time for her usual 'jump first' tactic, yet again.

* * *

 **A/N:** Literally had to try and cut this in half. Same problem a with 'convincing disguises' this was finished at over 7k words. So I brought it down some. I'll release the next half in a bit when it's done in editing. Also I will say that this is well more than just 'inspired' by the 4Kids 'The Batman' episode 4 from season 4 'Everywhere Man'. But there was no spoiler and the message was pretty much just 'be careful of your collections'. But yeah, I didn't want to end up making it Bruce centric or even too John Marlo centric so I didn't want to come up with my own parts for them. All of Steph's parts are me, though lead on a bit by the parts I didn't change. (i.e,- Kae got lazy...)

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Go Get'em, Steph!'. I'll accept it.)


	15. Four's a Pair prt 2

**A/N:** Heyo! See? I'm not a liar! (I might have cut it a bit close buuuuuuut,,... OH! Look! A Distraction!)

My Robin Reversal AU:

Tim - 18 Stephanie - 18 Bruce - 41

* * *

Chapter Fifteenteen: Four's a Pair part 2

In a giant room with nothing but glass windows for a roof and giant planters that could be mini parks, Batman was ridiculously outnumbered. With each Everywhere Man proving to be one hit to quit opponents, he was holding his own quite well. The problem was that for everyone that he knocked down, two more would appear out of thin air.

"Oh come now, Batman! How long do you really think you could last? It hardly matters how many of me you break, I'll just make more." The first clone of John Marlo stood, the only one not wearing the orange and white suite, high above the fight at the top of a set of stairs. Batman's only response was to throw smoke grenades at the surrounding Everywhere Men, clearing himself enough space to properly fight again.

"Make more of this!" Spoiler called out from behind him as she ran up from his blind spot. As she gathered his attention, he turned, but only in time to get sucker punched right in that glass jaw of his. The force of her hit sent him over the stairs and straight to the floor. Unlike the clones of clones, however, this Everywhere was able to get right back up again and glare at her. Then he smirked.

"One more enemy will hardly make a difference against my army," he jeered as two of the costumed Everywhere Men flanked him and then cloned themselves to make four, eight, sixteen, then thirty-two. All of them then immediately started to charge up the stairs at her.

"Then it's a pretty good thing I'm a decent 'Copy-Cat'," Spoiler quipped as she threw her purple cape to the side to show the device around her chest.

"What are you doing with my prototype!?" Everywhere Man shouted in a rage. As if it wasn't obvious, Spoiler felt she might as well as demonstrate exactly what she was doing with his prototype, and pressed the big, fat, 'don't-mess-with-me' button at the center of her chest. She felt a tingly sensation all over as she was copied over and over again until she made a full 128 or so fully stocked Spoiler army.

"As I said, being a 'Copy-cat'." Every Spoiler took a second to enjoy the look of shock and terror on Everywhere Man's face before all her clones when to work, facing off with the John Marlo knock-offs.

As expected, each Spoiler packed the same punch as the original, knocking out Everywhere clones left and right. A small group of them managed to push far enough to back up Batman. Batman was visibly wearing down as the continual onslaught of attackers barred down on him, and so he didn't even bother to hide the relief he felt to see Spoiler. Though he might have had to take a second to cover up the slight confusion he felt to see six of her.

The O.G. Spoiler, however, stood guard at the top of the stairs while the o.g. John Marlo watched on from behind her. They figured with all the fuss going on in the battlefield, no one would notice him up there. They were wrong, of course.

"Well, if it isn't Johnny-boy," Everywhere Man called out to him. "I knew I should have eliminated you when I had the chance. I always was too sentimental."

"True," Marlo answered, "You even saved the Quantum Prototype, that's going to be your downfall."

"There's a reason a 'prototype' is only a prototype. Sometimes it takes an upgrade to get things right." As if Everywhere's words weren't ominous enough, the device on Spoiler's chest began to spark.

"Uh-oh!" She cried out. She was about to try a different button, but Marlo was quick to stop her.

"The unit is over-loaded!" He explained.

"Oh it's worse than that, Johnny," Everywhere Man gathered their attention again. "Your duplicates are unstable!"

Tired of hearing him talk, one of the spoiler clones went to go shut him up. Everywhere just stepped to the side and continued. "One solid punch, and 'poof'!" As he landed his hit, the Spoiler-clone vanished into a small burst of light. The main Spoiler and Marlo both stood in silence. As the sparks died down Spoiler went to try to get at least one more clone out, but the attempt only resulted in more sparks.

"That's it. It's dead," Marlo sighed in remorse. "We're on our own."

"Might as well," Spoiler shrugged and got into a fighting stance, "I was getting bored just watching anyway." With that, Spoiler joined the fight, the device on her chest the only way to tell her apart from her copies. Batman, wearing down and now watching his back up constantly disappearing in a flash of light, realized he had to come up with a new strategy. The main Spoiler met up with Batman at a juncture of two giant planters, just in time to watch as her last two duplicates got thrown into each other _hard_ and then were gone. "Well, that's the last of 'em, . . ."

Batman, not yet on his last leg, managed to pull one of the Everywheres into a headlock, before then moving his grip down to the clone's midsection from above, and finally using his own momentum to pick up and spin the clone as to hit the other duplicates that were trying to surround him. Only for another ten more to take their place. Spoiler managed to get the few around her as she tried to break the circle closing in on Batman, but they were multiplying too much that she was just getting run around instead. A glance up at where the original John Marlo had been standing Spoiler saw two Everywheres grab him from either side as his first clone, Everywhere Man, stalked right up to him. Marlo was at least trying to break free, but it was no use.

"Quiet Johnny-boy, Batman may not know it, but the battle's over," Everywhere Man announced proudly. "It's only a matter of time."

Spoiler was out of throwing knives and she could hear the ' _click, click, click_ ' as Batman tried in vain to get even one more smoke grenade out. She really didn't want to know how this ended, but she could see it was about to end badly. And by a joke who didn't even know how to fight! To hell with all the lessons about numbers don't make the odds!

"Do you hear that?" Batman called out to the other clones, it sounded like _he_ was giving _them_ the warning. "It's only a matter of time."

"Before you're toast!"One of the Everywheres sneered with a point.

"And before you've outlived your usefulness," Batman pointed out. Spoiler immediately got where he was going and kept quiet. "What's Copy No. 1 going to do with so many of you? Where can he hide a 'few hundred' Marlos? And how can he stand the competition? Once the fighting is done, he'll recall each and every one of you. You'll all cease to exist."

There was stunned silence from the Everywhere clones before one of them turned to another and asked, "What if the Batman is right?"

"Don't listen to him!" Everywhere Man ordered, "Keep fighting!"

One of the clones, still loyal to the mastermind, ran forward to launch another attack on Batman, but another clone from behind Bats ran up even faster to intercept the attack. "Hey, think about it! If _we_ win this _we're_ toast!"

The intercepted clone wasn't swayed. "Shut-up, you traitor!" He cried out before attacking the turn-coat clone that had just stopped him.

"If one of us survives, we all do!" Another loyal tried to pacify his skeptical brothers.

"Then you won't mind if I'm the one surviving?" A Traitorous clone asked as he attacked him from behind.

There were duplicates turning on each other all around Spoiler and Batman before another betrayal shouted out louder than the rest. "The Quamtex! So long as _he_ has it, none of us are safe!" The clone speaking was, of course, pointing straight up at Everywhere Man.

"You're playing right into his hand!" Everywhere Man cried out in disbelief.

"Don't worry, we'll protect you," assured two more loyals as they moved to stand guard in front of him.

"But they all look alike," the captured Marlo pointed out, "how will you know 'who's with you' and 'who's against you'?"

Everywhere Man unconsciously took a step back from his own loyal guards as he looked at all the many orange and white costumed copies of himself. Spoiler was about to add her own two cents when a few of the Everywheres that had her surrounded just a bit ago all ran straight up the stairs.

"Get the Quamtex!" "We have to stop him!" "I'll get it!" "We can't let him use it!"

The sheer number of them barreled through the weak defense that the two loyal clones had tried to put up. They pushed through, backing Everywhere Man up to a wall as he hovered his finger hesitantly over the recall button.

"N-no, stop, don't make me do it!" He called out, probably realizing that if he called them back straight away, then _all_ his clones would turn against him. Seeing as they were unmoved and continued to advance, Everywhere Man quickly jabbed the recall and the entire atrium turned into a light show as all the clones disappeared in the same flash of light as Spoilers, newest to oldest. Soon enough the once crowded room was filled only with four people. Batman and Spoiler both had the same idea to skip the stairs and used grappling hooks to reach Everywhere Man before he could go anywhere.

"You haven't won _yet_ , Batman!" Spoiler always thought that line was a good sign that they had, indeed, already won.

"You're not really thinking you'll fight us alone now, are you?" She asked with a smirk.

"Then I'll create another army of 'Everywhere Men'," the clone cried out.

"With the same result," Batman remarked, glaring down on the fool.

"Then, I'll recall it, and start over, as many times as I have to," the panic was really starting to sink in now as the clone make a frantic strategy. "Eventually you'll fall!" Just as the clone raised this arm device to do just that, the real John Marlo snatched his hand from the side and wrestled it away from him.

"Will you _please_ shut-up?" He asked just as he pressed the recall button one more time, causing the copy to disappear, finally ending the long night of fighting. Marlo fell to his knees in exhaustion, months of being trapped in a cell catching up to him. "I thought I could help people everywhere, but I guess in the end, I'm just a 'nowhere man'."

"That's a pretty good song, actually," Spoiler quipped. From the dirty look she got from Bats and the complete look of befuddlement she received from Marlo she had a feeling that was poorly timed on her behalf. "Sorry. Moment of quiet self-reflection, got it."

* * *

The next day Steph walked her sore way up the manor steps and knocked on the heavy wooden door. This time, when it opened, it was Bruce, not Alfred to greet her.

"Oh, uh, guess you've discovered my super not-so-secret way of sneaking into the batttsment-erm, basement," she joked half-heartedly as she scratched the side of her head. She was expecting a glare at the least and a full on door slam in her face at the most. What she didn't expect was Bruce stepping to the side to let her in.

Not sure what was going to happen, Steph walked on in and followed Bruce to his study. Once in the secure sound-proof room, she knew that they were now free to talk without worry of being overheard. That Bruce brought her here meant he had something he wanted to lecture her about, and that it pertained to their night-time activities.

"Stephanie, last night there were a lot of lessons to be had. I wonder if you were able to see all the same ones I did," Bruce quizzed her. Steph bit her lip and looked down at the floor.

"'Jump first and strategize second' should be held for emergencies, like when you've been surrounded by a continuously growing number of enemies and you're out of ammo?" She listed the first one from right on top of her head. Sure, she winged the whole thing with that prototype, but in the end, it just led to them fighting more than they really had to.

"Good, and what else?" Bruce asked.

"Well, it was a good refresher of your whole, 'numbers don't make the odds' spiel," Steph added.

"And?" Now Stephanie was stuck. She looked up at him confused. What other lesson was there in all of last night? Be careful of how many times you clone yourself? Practice more lock-picking? Let the 'still-in-shock' rescued hostage have their terrible one-liner?

"I'm lost, you lost me," Steph admitted.

Bruce took a long inhale before he looked Steph in the eye and explained where he was going with his 'lecture'.

"Yes, you need to practice thinking before you act. You have a knack for thinking on your feet, which is in truth an invaluable asset, but it might take you the long way around if you don't go in with a plan first. And you're right, last night was a perfect example of why numbers don't make the victor. The real lesson that _I_ took away from last night, however, was that when you don't give your partners a proper reason to follow you, you're only creating your own enemies." Steph followed and realized he was talking about how easy it was to turn an entire army against its commander. Easiest it had ever been in fact. Bruce put a hand on Steph shoulder and got her attention back to him. "I see now that I have been overly harsh, and so far that has only led to all my most trusted companions working behind my back. You are a great hero, and they are your friends just as much as your teammates. It was unfair of me to try and push them to lock you out. Besides, as irresponsible as you can be, you have still come through for this family more times than I can count."

Steph didn't know how to respond. Sure, her dad was a criminal, just like Cas and Jason, but unlike them, he was never abusive and Steph never felt the need to look for a new father figure to look up to. Hell, the reason Arthur Brown even became 'the Clue Master' to begin with was that he was trying to provide a better life for his wife and daughter. The wrong way, sure, but still, Steph didn't need a new father figure as the others did with a dad like hers. But to have Bruce Wayne stand there and look her in the eyes and acknowledge her, it felt like the same feeling she got when her own dad praised her when he found out she went into crime fighting.

Tears welling up in her eyes and a goofy smile on her face, Steph did the only thing she could think of. Ruin the moment. "What do you mean by irresponsible? I'm perfectly responsible!"

Bruce gave a small, tight-lipped smile back. "Do I really need to remind you who was supposed to be watching the boys during the 'Billard Ball' incident?" He asked.

"Hey, you called me to unlock the door for you because you lost your keys, I didn't think they could cause such a mess by me being out of the room for five freaking seconds!" Steph tried to sound defensive, but she couldn't help the giggles that broke up her acting. The two stood there and chuckled to themselves for a moment.

"Alright. That's out of the way, I've reinstated your pass-codes. You should be able to get into the cave without having to bother poor Alfred anymore," Bruce announced as he started for the door.

"Wait, did you ever figure out what Everywhere was trying to pull with Keleb's paintings?" Steph asked.

Bruce paused with his hand on the door handle, "John's returned all the art Everywhere stole and even donated his own personal collection to the museum. Unfortunately, the only thing he found of the three paintings by Kreg Keleb was thirty thousand dollars wired to him from an unknown buyer. He's since passed that money on to the owners who lost them. Two of them at least. Batman's talked him out of going to Sionis about his missing 'Lion's Dreamscape'." With that, Bruce left the study.

Steph waited for a second longer before wiping off her face with her sleeve and then pulled out her phone.

It rang a couple of times before Tim finally answered.

"Is it life or death?" He asked with a scratchy voice that told her he was still in bed.

"Thank you," she told him. She could hear him shifting in bed a little as he got comfortable again.

"For what?"

"You knew that what B and I really needed was a new chance to reconnect. That's why you bailed, isn't it?" Steph referenced to when Tim chose to leave the mission up to Batman and Spoiler.

"Actually, there was another part of what I found a couple of nights ago I wanted to look into. You two having the stolen art thief covered freed me up to look into something a bit nastier," Tim explained, "So really I should be thanking you."

"Alright, then, let's have it," Stephanie joked.

"Maybe some other time. Night." The line went dead as Tim hung up on her. Steph just rolled her eyes and smiled. All was right with her world again, she'll worry about the small stuff later.

* * *

 **A/N:** Dun, dun, DUUUUUUNNNN! What is Tim going to look into? Don't worry about it, I've got other things planned for your reading pleasure. That's just a thread for a future chapter later on, so keep it in mind but don't go 'looking' for it. It'll just drive you mad. I've actually done a few of these 'loose threads' in previous chapters but this one was harder to hide away or make discreet. Then again I think a few of you already picked up on them. ^_^''

So I hope you guys don't mind that this one was Steph centric. I'm blonde, blue-eyed, and my last name is Brown, so to have the one and only in cannon Fem!Robin be so close to me in both personality, background, and looks, she's a character I really love and HAD to incorporate into the story just as all the other Robins. Even is she isn't really 'family'.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Got 'Em!'. I'll accept it.)


	16. The Cat Houdini

**A/N:** Well then, I didn't really see the ending of this going the direction it did, but um, it went there, and I was powerless to stop it, . . .

My Robin Reversal AU:

Tim - 15 Stephanie - 15

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: The Cat Houdini

Tim let himself be dragged into the small building by Stephanie. The blonde one of the pair insisted the two of them needed to get out of the cave and do something together that had nothing to do with their nightly activities, thus she decided they should volunteer at the local animal shelter. Tim was not enthusiastic about cleaning animal cages and litter boxes, but he figured that he must be hitting puberty cause lately he hasn't been able to tell a single pretty girl the word 'no' for a few months now. At least this was just extra chores that Steph plans to do with him. It wasn't nearly as humiliating as when Ariana at school asked if he'd stand in for Gregory as school mascot for the last football game of the session. Yeah, once Peter Oshwits found out, he didn't waste time tackle driving Tim to the ground mid-game, and that's not even bringing up what was waiting for him in the locker room. Tim shuttered at the memory as Steph signed them in. He'd take litter boxes and dog poop over that any day.

"Hello! I'm Steph, I called about the volunteer program yesterday?" Steph introduced herself to the lady behind the desk in the lobby if the Animal Shelter. The lady was somewhat short for a grown adult, though still a couple of inches taller than Tim, and had extremely short magenta hair that was spiked up in every direction except the front. She wore a lime-green sleeveless turtle neck shirt with an open black vest that had deep pockets bulging with items. Around her neck were thick plastic beads that matched the clunky earrings. Her make-up was a bit extreme and her brows replaced with pencil lines. All in all, she looked like 'Karen' and 'Kathy's outrageous cousin 'Karmen'. Tim wasn't sure if there was a meme for such a person, but he decided he'd just make up one for himself.

Tim shifted in place behind Steph as a tiny 'mew' caught his attention. Looking to the corner, Tim saw a giant cage with a full grown tabby laying at the bottom, looking up at him with tired eyes, as no less than thirteen of the tiniest kittens Tim had ever seen crawled and climbed about. There were six of them scaling the cage itself and one of them was even at the very top, hanging up-side-down and 'walking' around it like that was just how gravity worked.

"Yes, just fill out these safety forms and personal info and we can use you in the 'Cat Room'," 'Karmen' replied to Steph with a wide smile as she handed Stephanie a clipboard.

"Shouldn't these guys be in the 'cat room'?" Tim asked, pointing to the cage of spider-cats.

"Oh-no, Gabby there just gave birth to them a couple of days ago, they're still nursing so there is a strict 'no adoption' clause on them for now. So they get the lobby to themselves." After explaining, Karmen took the clipboard the Steph was returning and lead them to the door to the north side of the building. As the three of them entered, Tim was not at all surprised to find it stank of kitty litter and cat food.

"I'll go ahead and have you two clean boxes and refill food and water trays," Karmen decided. "As you can see, each cage has a label telling you the names and health records of each of the cats; yellow labels are the aggressive ones so you can skip those. I'll have Lane come in later to get them. Also, keep an eye on the ones with a green sticker on the lable, those are the 'escape artist' and have a tendancy to skamper off if given a chance." As Karmen said this, Tim's eyes landed on a pink label with green stickers plastering the entire border of the paper. The name read 'Nights' and the cat in the cage was a slick black with only one white, wavey stripe going down the side of its face; from just above its left eye, down its nose, and then curving down its right jaw-line. The cat, 'Nights', just blinked up at him with a twitch of its tail.

"The litter is in this closet, along with the litter scoops, plastic bags, and brooms for sweeping up when you're done. Food is in the bin by the door and there is a spout next to that for water. Good luck, you two." With that, Karmen left the room to get back to her desk job.

Tim and Steph decided to split the work in half by bisecting the room. Tim almost felt bad when he realized Steph's side had more pink labels and thus more cages to clean, but he figured that it was her idea to begin with, and he could make it up by sweeping the floor of the entire room to make it even. As they worked, Tim tried to avoid touching the cats as much as possible. He really wasn't much of an animal lover; the smallness of the living creatures, the way you could see their bones shift as they moved, the unpredictable nature of their disposition, he wasn't a fan. Which also might explain his aversion to babies now that he thought about it. Steph, on the other hand, was coo'ing and cuddling every kitty she could.

"Who's a handsome furry devil? D'aw, he's purring! I think he loves me!" Steph paused her work to cradle a large ginger cat. Tim saw the name on its label was 'Jorge', and he felt it was a horrible waste of a perfect 'Garfield' reference.

"You know, if you keep playing with them, you'll never get done, right?" Tim pointed out to her as he finished up yet another cage. Thankfully, none of the cats on his side were overly friendly, and each seemed to keep their distance from him as must as he kept his distance from them.

"Tim, that's half the point to volunteering at the Animal Shelter. Mom's allergic to cats and my dad only ever kept dogs for, well, let's just say they weren't the best cuddle buddies. Volunteering at the shelter lets you spend some time with a furry companion before having to head home to loneliness," Steph explained as she proceeded to do her job with one hand, as she was still cradling 'Jorge' in her left arm.

"You're lonely Steph?" Tim asked, hearing something a bit more in Steph's monolog than she meant to say.

"Aren't you?" She responded. Tim frowned at that, he had to take a second to think about his response.

"Well, it's not really 'lively' at the manor, but it's actually pretty similar to how things were before my parents passed away. Really, I doubt I'm the loneliest guy out there," Tim settled with as a response.

"I didn't ask if you were the 'loneliest guy' Tim, I asked if you were 'lonely'," Steph pointed out as she put Jorge back into his now clean cage.

"Where is this even coming from?" Tim asked with a furrow in his brow. Was this just another attempt from Bruce and Steph to try and get Tim and Damian to get along? How many times does he have to point out that it's not his fault that his older, 'brother' as Bruce would insist, was a raging psychopath?

"Nothing, never mind," Steph moved to the next cage and Tim went back to his work.

Tim was at the second to last of his cages, and Steph was still near the front of hers, so Tim figured he'd hurry up with this one and get over to the other side to help her. Not really paying any attention to the card or the cat, Tim readied his plastic bag and scoop before opening the cage door. He began to clean the cage as he had for all the others before the cat with-in jumped out.

"Hey, wait!" Tim cried out, dropping the items in his hands to try and lung for the black streak of shadow that slipped underneath the cages before scampering into the open closet.

"What happened?" Steph asked, turning from where she was about to open the cage of a white and brown calico.

"The cat just jumped out and ran!" Tim exclaimed, pointing to the closet he was sure he saw the feline run into.

"Which one? I mean, what did it look like?" Steph asked following the direction Tim pointed in. Tim looked at the label on the cage and felt his heart drop. It was 'Nights' cage, the one with all the green stickers. The one the shelter gave him all the warnings about running.

"It's black with a white streak down its face," Tim recalled, describing the cat he saw before they started.

"I'm not seeing any cat's in here," Steph called out, Tim went over to look with her. The closet was actually well lit, and well stocked, so they figured he could probably be hiding in between the items on the shelves. It was only out the corner of Tim's eye as he went to shift around Steph that he saw the black mass back in the middle of the cat room, trying to push open the door.

"He's there!" Tim called out, running after it. The cat just shot through, right between his legs before jumping up one of the cages and climbing the sides, his momentum helping him reach the top before either Tim or Steph could grab him.

"What the heck!?" Steph shouted as she watched the cat get to the top and instantly start to dash across it, lunging between the gaps in the cages to get around the room. When the cat got to the end, it didn't hesitate to just jump down to the food bin before launching itself toward the door latch, the swing of its lower body actually providing just enough momentum to pull the door open just a sliver of a crack. That seemed to be all it needed before the cat landed on its hind paws before quickly using the front two to pry open the door just enough to fit its head trough, and like that, Nights was gone.

"What the hell? Was that Batman in a cat transformation?" Steph exclaimed in utter disbelief.

"I'll go after him, you finish up here," Tim called over to her before running out the door himself.

Once in the lobby, Tim was instantly in detective mode, and the first thing he noticed was Karmen, sitting at her, not even looking up.

"Um, excuse me, uh, one of the cats got away from us, did you see which way he went by any chance?" Tim asked. Karmen looked up in a bit of a startle before seeming to think over his words.

"The cat wouldn't be little ol' Nights now, would it?" She asked suspiciously. Tim just nodded and she sighed. "He needs to just hurry up and get adopted by a magician or something. You might find him by the kennels, there's a golden retriever named 'Mit' that he's fond of, or the bird cages in the back near a red canary with the name tag 'Frayer', he's been trying to get into that one for a while now. Don't really know if it's to play with it or eat it or both. Either way, good luck and godspeed, I've got some more paperwork to do." Tim frowned. That wasn't exactly the kind of reaction or information he had expected for a runaway cat, but it'll have to do.

Taking a chance on the southern door, Tim found a few small dog cages with little lap dogs in them. There was another door to the end but it was closed. Even if Nights knew how to open the doors, he didn't seem to be taking time to close them again, nor would he really be able too. Also, the dogs in this room were all pretty relaxed until they saw Tim enter, so chances were that they hadn't just seen a cat either. So Tim decided to save time and bank on the cat not having been in there, and instead went down the hall behind the desk and then took a left. This took Tim down between a couple of offices before he heard loud barking and growling. Following the sound, Tim found a swinging door that led to a giant room filled with bigger kennels and large dogs, each one losing their mind over something. Realizing this was a back way into the very room he wasted time going the long way to get into, Tim tried to find 'Mit' the golden retriever. Looking over each of the cages, Tim couldn't see a single dog of that specific breed. He found a yellow lab named 'Rilo', but no retriever. Then he noticed an empty cage with an open door. furrowing his brow, Tim walked closer to it to read the label on it. Pink, green stickers, 'Mit' the golden retriever. Crud.

So, Nights already broke in and broke out his friend. The good news is that a dog would be a lot easier to spot than just a cat, the bad news is, if Nights went through so much trouble to get Mit out, then the last thing Tim should do was underestimate Mit the way he did Nights.

. . .

It was in thinking this that Tim reminded himself that he was talking about a CAT and a DOG for crying out loud! Shaking his head at himself he decided to keep his sense of disbelief suspended until further notice, after all it _is_ Gotham, and tried to think about the next step. He got his dog friend out, now he might try for the bird.

Tim took off using the door he didn't bother with before coming back into the lapdog room, making his way through into the lobby. There he saw Karmen stapling a few pieces of paper together and Steph leaning over and talking with her. She paused mid-speech when she looked up and saw him. Tim didn't get a single word out before Steph pointed back down the hall he had already gone through.

"You're not helping?" Tim asked incredulity.

"You mean, am I leaving this for you to 'finish up' like I 'finished up' the cat room?" Steph asked with a deadpan expression.

"Uh, well, I, um, ..."

"Save it and find that cat already so we can go home," Steph waved him off and went back to her conversation with Karmen. Tim rolled his eyes and made his way back down the hall. Tim supposed that he should have seen this coming the moment he left Steph behind, but now it was officially his mess to clean up.

Taking the right where he last went left, Tim passed by a small nurse's office looking room on his way to the 'Bird Room' in the back. Strangely enough, 'Bird Room' was more 'Caged Animal' room as the cages seemed to hold rabbits, guinea pigs, as well as birds. Checking over each empty cage for any labels, Tim saw a large yellow shape and ducked down out of site. He raised just enough to see through the cage of a grey rabbit named 'Gru', and from there he saw Nights leap up Mit's back to a hanging bird cage with a bright red canary.

Tim watched as Nights latched one clawed paw on the side of the cage to pull it closer as he used the other one to paw at the door. From the inside, the bird used his talons to hold himself next to the very door that the cat was trying to claw its way into, and began to use its beak to try and help keep hold of the deadbolt latch as the cat tried to paw it back enough that the bird could let go and not risk the bolt falling back into the locking position. Tim watched transfixed as the three animals worked together, the bird waiting for the cat to get the bolt far enough for the wire door to swing open. Once the door was opened, the canary shot off, flying around the room before landing on a window seal.

Instead of trying to catch the bird, the cat simply jumped down from the dog and began to walk back toward the entrance. The moment it rounded the corner and saw Tim, however, every hair on it's back shot straight up and the next moment was completely out of Tim's control. Nights darted back around where the dog had been slowly following it, confusing the hell out of the golden retriever, and then shot up a cage again, as the bird began to tweet frantically. Or maybe it was laughing?

Tim went to take a step forward, but the dog did the same to get between Tim and the cat, only for said cat to overestimate how much weight the particular tower of animal cages could hold, leading to the downward tilt of four thin cages with hampsters and guinea pigs. Tim moved as fast as he could as the dog just jumped out of the way. Nights, the cat, lost his grip on the unexpected shift of gravity and just barely landed on his feet before Tim managed to catch the entire row of animals, lifting the heavy cages back into its upright position, and making sure the pets within were alright. None of them seemed hurt, but they were all huddled into corners as much as they could be. Sighing in relief, Tim turned back around only to see that the three culprits were gone.

Grumbling to himself, Tim got going again, trying to figure out in his mind where they might have run off to. As he walked out of the room, getting tired of chasing animals around like an idiot, Tim walked by the 'nurses station' looking room again, this time he froze. There were all three, sitting in front of a caged rabbit with reddish fur. Tim crept in, closing and locking the door behind him as he did so. All four animals shot their gaze at him the moment they heard the 'click' of the latch and Tim tensed. He waited for them to make a move, but the door really was the only exit, and the room was too small for the animals to run around him even if there was.

Instead of making another attempt at freedom, Nights the cat crept up to the caged rabbit and pushed his paw between the bars. Frayer the bird hopped forward and did the same with its face. Mit the dog kept back with his head low. Tim frowned and slowly walked forward, kneeling down to the rabbit cage to read the papers there.

'Name: Ally. Aliment: Recovery from Amputation of back leg. Known Cause/s: leg caught on fire at previous owner's, taken away from abusive home. Estimated Recovery Time: four weeks'.

After Tim read the papers he looked back to the impossible animals that can together to defy all logic and limits in order to be there for their unlikely friend. Suddenly Tim felt an empty part of his heart throb and a tear come to his eye.

 _'I didn't ask if you were the 'loneliest guy' Tim, I asked if you were 'lonely'._

Steph's words echoed in his mind. Ever since his last interaction with Damian, Tim might have begun a bad habit of pushing people away and ignoring his own needs. If he gave himself time for reflection before now, he might have realized that he had been trying to force himself to be someone he thought Damian might like, or even just somewhat tolerate. It was only natural, right? Nightling had been Tim's hero since he was four and the young sidekick first debuted. If Tim was going through something like Ally the rabbit, could Tim ever hope that Damian would rally together with Bruce and Steph the same way Nights the cat did with Frayer the bird and Mit the dog?

Said dog put his head on Tim's lap and the boy smiled as he scratched Mit behind the ears. What was he thinking? Of course, he could. Damian was bitter for now, but surely if they just gave it a bit more time, Tim knows he could at the very least depend on Damian to be there as Shadowbat should Tim ever be in actual need. Even if the emotional connection wasn't there, that was enough for him.

"Come on, guys. Your friend needs her rest and the three of you need to get back to where you should be," Tim announced. He didn't know if they understood him or if they had already decided this on their own, but Tim had absolutely no problems getting Frayer back into his bird cage and Mit back into his kennel. Nights, on the other hand, wasn't quite ready to call it a day and jumped up on Karmen's desk the moment the two cut through the lobby to get to the cat room.

"I see you found him," Karmen joked as she began to stroke his soft fur.

"Come on, you little jerk, I thought we agreed," Tim frowned at the feline.

"I've got him, you go ahead and head home," Karmen waved him off.

"So where did you find him?" Seph asked.

"He got the dog and the bird and the three of them were in the nurse's room hanging out with a rabbit named 'Ally'," Tim explained. Steph furrowed her brow and tilted her head at him, not quite believing his story.

"Ah, yeah, they did seem pretty curious when she came in. Probably adopted her into their little gang of sorts. I swear, Gotham does some pretty weird things to the strays around here," Karmen nodded her head as she continued to pet the cat on her desk.

"Well, we better get going, it was nice to meet you, Miss Cecily," Steph called out as she took Tim's arm and aimed him out the door. He was confused for a moment before he remembered that 'Karmen' was just a name he came up with because of how she looked and he never actually got her name. He shrugged it off.

The two got on a public bus back into town where Steph was going to walk home and Tim was going to hail a cab back to the manor. During the bus ride, Steph looked over to Tim with a smug grin and asked if he'd like to volunteer there again sometime.

"No," Tim stated with a straight face and a dead serious voice. Steph pretended to pout all the way to the next bus stop, but Tim was all smiles at having reclaimed his lost ability. No more standing in as mascot for him.

* * *

 **A/N:** So I normally try to keep it from being about the same family members twice in a row unless I have it split into parts, and Four's a Pair was pretty much Steph, Bruce, and Tim. But I'm hitting a brick wall in my writing, not just this story but everything. So I figured I might as well go with inspiration where ever it strikes. I used the one animal shelter I volunteered at that ONE time for reference, so I might not have a lot correct in how they're managed. Also, I've noticed in the 'chapter traffic' graphs that Steph centric stories tend to do the worst, so I'll try to keep her stuff shorter and more sidelined unless it absolutely has to be about her (such as went I go to do the 'Bruce Meet Steph' arch) Then again, Jason is actually proving to be my second least read character as well, . . . You guys sure? Really? Okay then.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Backhanded foreshadowing? REALLY, Kae?!'. I'll accept it.)


	17. Detective Jason

**A/N:** You know, someday I will be able to say that I have gone more than a year without having lost some story or chapter or something to the death hand that is glitchy technology. I'm not rich enough yet to say that this day, and chances are I won't be able to say that in a month or two either.

Also, I'm switching up my usual set up for character arcs, but it's not like this new set up is the 'new set up'. Jason's just a special baby is all.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason-10

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Detective Jason

It was always easiest when his dad wasn't home. Jason didn't have to worry about getting kicked off the T.v. or yelled about something stupid. When his dad wasn't home, Jason was pretty much allowed to do whatever he wanted. He was allowed to eat the cereal out of the box (so long as he cleaned up the evidence), he was allowed to stay up late (so long as he wasn't still sleeping when he wasn't supposed to be in the apartment), and he could watch whatever he wanted on the television (so long as it wasn't too loud and upsetting his neighbors). Yeah, Jason knew as far as most kids went in his city, he had it pretty good.

At that very moment, Jason was doing all three things, sitting cross-legged, bag of off-brand fruit-loops in lap, nose almost pressed to the screen as he watched his favorite cartoon. When it was over, the news came on and Jason watched it too, though with less interest. Between all the boring things the news anchors had to say, and fluff pieces they were reporting on, finally, they said something interesting.

"Thank you, Harper, for that report, now for the Batman-fan some great news comes to us from some local citizen's and their candid camera evidence that the long noted absence of Batman's young sidekick 'Nightlying' seems to now be over. The footage shows the darkened silhouette long associated with the night-time protector jumping between roof-tops with a smaller shadow, showing to also bare a cape. Some officials estimate that the young squire of justice might have been benched due to injury, or maybe was even just taking time to catch up on his studies. Whatever his reason, we are all grateful to know that Nightlying is alright."

Jason frowned at the footage the channel showed. It was pretty poor quality, and the guy was shaking a lot from not having been watching the sky to begin with, but there was something off about the kid the news reporters just called Nightlying. Jason couldn't quite put his finger on it. When the reporters went on to a fluff piece about some big charity event to be hosted by some rich family, Jason flipped the t.v. off and decided to go to bed early that night. He had something he wanted to look up at the library as soon as it opened the next day.

* * *

Thomas and Andy were jerks, but they were the closest thing to friends Jason could find in his neighborhood, and if it was one lesson his dad gave him free, it was that a guy needs 'friends'. Andy's dad was a friend of Jason's and Thomas' uncle was one of their 'bosses' for lack of a better word. Mainly, Willis Todd and Morri Grande both answered to Mac Dilinhaul, and Dilinhaul went up to another guy who answered to someone bigger. And so goes the chain of command. Jason once asked his dad who he ultimately works for and were they as big-time as 'Joker' or 'Black Mask'. His dad beat him until he was purple all over and told him to never ask questions about his work ever again.

So here was Jason, stuck with his assigned friends, son's of gang members that were his age, that liked to boss him around because his dad was the lowest on the 'food chain'. Jason thought that was bull considering Andy's dad was his dad's equal, but Andy pointed out that Mr. Grande had more lackey's and therefore made him more important. In the end, Jason tried to keep on good terms with his 'friends' without ever really spending time with them. This was made easier because Thomas and Andy seemed to have an allergy to the public library and neither of them knew that Jason knew, and liked, how to read. Whenever Jason needed to get away from reality, the local library was there for him on all fronts.

Having been kicked out of the apartment so that the three men could have their work meeting, Jason was already stuck with Tom and Andy for the day. Listening to Thomas claim to know exactly what their fathers were talking about, claiming that there was going to be a hold up somewhere in the financial district, Andy listened on with the 'appropriate' amount of impression, while Jason rolled his eyes and yawned. When he was called out for not believing Thomas, Jason pointed out there was a hold up somewhere in the financial district every other day, and that if Thomas wanted to impress Jason, he'd have to get specific.

Now Jason learned by now, that when a person can't live up to their own hype, they tend to get really mad, really quick when they are called out on it. Thinking that it'd be a good punishment for Jason questioning him, Thomas and Andy then ditched the ten-year-old in the middle of Robbinson Park and went to go practice pocket-picking. Jason just made his happy way to the library where he was finally going to get a chance to look over the local newspaper archives like he was hoping for.

The first time Jason ever came into the local library, with no adult, no shoes, and no real interest in the books, the librarian at the counter immediately set on running him out. That was before Mrs. Fitzgerald, the elderly head librarian overheard and came to his rescue. Knowing that the library was a common sanctuary for people with no-where to be, Mrs. Fitzgerald came along acting like she knew Jason his whole life, saying things like; "You're late for your lessons, Young Man". Jason was only seven at the time and was so taken aback by it all that he ended up playing along with his 'yes, Ma'am's' and 'I'm sorry, Ma'am's'. After that Mrs. Fitzgerald then started taking time out of her day to actually teach Jason to read, and Jason actually gave the effort to learn. And thus Jason's love of reading began.

Three years later, Mrs. Fitzgerald watched the young man walk into his second home and right up to her desk.

"Good morning, Jason, would you like another reading lesson today? We're awfully slow, I wouldn't mind going over something things with you if you'd like?" Fitzgerald offered.

"Nah, Thank ya, Mizus Fitz, I was hoping I could read some ol' newspapers? There was something I was curious 'bout from the news the oth'r night," Jason made his request.

"Oh, newspapers? My, that must be an interesting question if you're willing to brave those long and boring articles," Mrs. Fitzgerald smiled before standing up from behind her desk and walking around to lead Jason to the newspaper archive. "Now, everything thing is cataloged by year, of course, but we have a small cheat sheet Miss Abby keeps updated per week. What is your inquiry about?"

"Well, I wanted to find something about Nightlying, from a few months ago, if I can?"

"Ah, that is a rather interesting topic, now isn't it? He's rather popular with the children, so Miss Abby keeps a separate index for Batman and his young sidekick here in the back where it's easy to find," Mrs. Fitzgerald explained as she pulled a large three-ring binder open to the back pages where, in neat handwriting, there were the words 'Gotham Heroes' and a long list beneath it labeling dates with either 'Batman', 'Nightling', 'Batgirl', or 'other' next to it. Usually, the three names would be grouped together, either in pairs or all three, but sometimes they'd be solo.

"Which one will have a picture with Batman and Nightling side-by-side? A newer one, of I can," Jason narrowed down his search.

"Well, let's see. Looks like Nightling has been out of the news for a couple of months now, and his last few sightings were with Batgirl, so we'll have to go back almost a year ago. Here, August 4th, Nightling and Batman. As for the picture you're wanting, we'll have to just go find the article and look at it with our own eyes," Mrs. Fitzgerald said as she moved to a wall of filing cabinets with dates on the index cards in front of her. She scanned the cards until she found the one of the previous three years and then opened it to flip through the 36 months stored inside until she found the headline they were looking for. "Ah-ha, looks like you're in luck, Jason."

Jason moved to stand next to the librarian and looked at the picture on the cover as she held it to him. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. It looked like his suspicions were right, Nightling in this photo was almost as tall as Batman, if not exactly as tall as him. Using his pinky as a ruler, Jason could see that as far as this image showed, Nightling's feet went from the base of his palm to the second knuckle of his little finger. Same for Batman.

"What is it that you're doing, Jason?" Mrs. Fitzgerald asked.

"Do you have a copy of the photo they showed last night?" Jason asked in turn instead of answering her.

"Um, well, if we do, it'd be in the newest edition, wouldn't it?" Mrs. Fitzgerald pointed out as she replaced the August paper and moved to the file beneath it with the current year on it. Opening the file she pulled out that morning's paper and flipped through until she found the article in question. It was small and to the side, after all, it was just another 'Bat-sighting'. Nightling being there after so long was just enough for it to get a mention. Jason did the same thing, using his pinky to measure, though now, while Batman from head to foot went the length of his first two knuckles, Nightlying was only just past the first.

"They're different kids, . . ." Jason muttered his discovery.

"Oh? Are you certain? The perspective could just be thrown off by the angle, after all, how many roof jumping, crime-fighting children are out there?" Mrs. Fitzgerald 'pointed out'. Jason frowned at that. Something seemed off about calling 'Nightling', or at least the 'previous' Nightling, a child.

"I think I understand how to do it now, Mizus Fitz, thank ya," Jason smiled at her and then walked back over to the archive index.

"Well then, you're always such a quick study, Jason, if you need anything I've on desk duty today," Mrs. Fitzgerald said before she gave him a pat on the shoulder and made her way back to work.

Jason made a show of flipping between a couple of pages before being certain that Fitzgerald wasn't paying any mind to him anymore. He flipped back to the Heroes page and dragged his finger down the dates mentioning 'Batman'. He didn't stop until his finger landed on the first 'Nightling' on the list. The date was just a year before Jason was even born. Already the math wasn't adding up.

Repeating the date under his breath, Jason found the cabinet and then the file, and then the month. Pulling out the newspaper of the particular day, Jason saw the headline was criticizing Batman for having such a young child fight crime with him. The image showed a black and white with Batman and a kid in cape talking to the police commissioner, some guy in a weird costume was being escorted into a car in handcuffs. Doing his pinky test again, Jason got a similar measurement to the newest picture.

Why is it that none of the adults were taking into account the fact that Nightling showed up as a kid _eleven years ago_ , and yet was showing up as a kid _now_? Putting Nighling at ten when he first debuted as a guess, he'd be officially old enough to drink _that year_. A new set of theories entered Jason's head. At first, he had to wonder if maybe the previous Nightling died, but something a bit more likely came to mind. Putting the paper back and going back to the index, Jason looked at the more recent sightings of Nightling before he was 'replaced'. Jason could see that he had been seen less and less with Batman, and more and more on his own. He was growing up and becoming a hero all on his own.

Jason mulled this over for a sec. What if, he figured, Nightling had officially outgrown being a sidekick? What if he had tried to strike it out on his own in Gotham? What if none of the adults or media took him seriously because they were so used to him being so young? What if the first Nightling gave up Nightling in favor of letting Batman train a new sidekick and he himself was now a new hero all his own?

There was a moment of doubt in his own theory when Jason tried to look up one of the 'other' heroes, only to find they were Heroes from other cities visiting Gotham such as Superman or Green Arrow. None of which could be the previous Nightling. That was until Jason realized that Nightling might have wanted to find a city all his own instead of being under Batman's foot all the time. That actually made more sense really.

Now completely convinced that this new 'Nightling' was just some replacement for the old one, Jason put everything back exactly as he found it, and made his way back home, hoping his dad's 'meeting' was over.

* * *

Jason sat in the living room just shaking his head in both irritation and disbelief. His mom was holding him as if to try and console him as the two watched a live report of Batman and Nightling helping haul goons with handcuffs into a police van. Willis Todd was clearly seen as the first to be packed away. Jason glared at the screen as his old man was shoved in.

"Don't be angry at them, Jason, they're just upholding the law," his mom said as she petted his hair. She mistook his glare to be for Batman and Nightling. Maybe it was better that way. She had spent most of Jason's life trying to be a mediator of sorts between her two boys, always trying to keep the peace in their family. All Jason could think of was how much more peaceful it was going to be with his dad in jail where he can't spend his mom's money or start yelling for no reason. The more he thought about it, the more Jason realized just how much of a good thing this was actually going to be for them. If he could send fan-mail to Batman and the replacement Nightling, then he'd be happy to do so!

Feeling everything was heading in an upward direction, it took Jason completely off-guard when his mom wouldn't wake up the next morning...

* * *

 **A/N:** So, I was going to make this my 'Bruce Meet Jason' chapter, buuuuut, it's running long and I can't bring myself to move his chapters out of chronological order as I did for Tim. Jason is just my special baby is all. He's also probably going to get either more or less than the three-chapter background. I'm still figuring it out. I have a couple of chapters planned that I'm not sure if I want it to be apart of this arch or if I want to save them for future chapters that just happen to be Jason specific. We'll see. Either way, look forward to learning about our 'current' Nightling's introduction to the Bat-fam!

(Also, if there are moment's where 'Nightling' got spelled with a 'y', it was not intentional, my spellchecker likes it better and redflags me if I don't use it. I like it better with no 'y' so my computer decided to switch them all up on me and 'correct' them for me. I gave up trying to hunt for them after the third...)

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'So smart, Jason!'. I'll accept it.)


	18. Jason Meet Nightling

**A/N:** So, . . . Alright, I will admit it here and now, I already have the next chapter done, but that's not the confession. The confession is I haven't the slightest clue how to write a good crime alley accent. I keep trying to look of references and keep getting lost in the web for it. So I'm mostly focusing on keeping it continuous in however it's presented, and I'm purposefully trying to make it sound uneducated. I live in Kansas. So if it seems like I'm writing Jason like he's from the South, I am _so_ sorry, I've been trying to fix it. I was originally going to have him drop his 'g's at the end of words but I _knew_ that'd be too mid-western. (Fun fact, I cannot pronounce my ending 'g's. When I say words like 'Hang' or 'Thing' they sound like 'hane' and 'Thyn' and don't get me _started_ on verb words ending in '-ing'. Give ya a hint, '-in' '.)

So, yeah, if any of you know how to write a proper Boston Accent, . . . HELP!

Thank you.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason - 12 Tim - 14

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Jason Meet Nightling

It had been two years since his mom O.D.'d on her medication.

23 months since Jason was evicted because they were already behind on rent and now there was no money coming in.

20 months since Mrs. Haggle next door got caught helping a local gang with their money-laundering scheme and Jason couldn't sleep on her couch anymore.

18 months since Jason realized that he really had no friends in Gotham and Tommy and Andy would only help him in turn for 'favors'.

16 months since Jason got caught trying to do one of these 'favors' and was taken to Juvie.

One year since he was released into social services and put into foster care.

10 months since he was blamed for stealing something from the lady who watched over him and six other kids, getting him sent back to juvie for another few months.

5 months since he got released for a second time and taken to a new home.

4 months since he ditched that place.

3 months since he last had a proper shower.

2 months since he last pick-pocketed enough cash for a proper meal.

1 month since he stopped looking people in the eye.

Three weeks since he lost his jacket.

Two weeks since he stopped trying to get warm.

One week since he gave up.

Three days waiting to die in the gutter.

One hour of trying to will enough energy to move his hand to block the sunlight from his eyes.

"Well, look at what we's got here, Andy," Tommy's voice grated on Jason, all the way down to his gut. Nothing good ever came from these two.

"Looks like a bit'o gutter trash ta me, Tom. What do ya think?"

"I think it's time we got a bit 'green' if ya catch my drift. A little 'reduce', 'reuse', 'recycle', if ya know what I'm saying," Tommy replied.

Andy nodded along at first until he realized he didn't know what Tommy was saying, and Jason watched as that idiotic 'lost' expression crawled over his face, causing Tommy to roll his eyes.

"Alright, Todd, here's the deal. We've got a job for ya, we'll even let you use a shower first and get all prettied up for it. Afterward, we'll buy you lunch, now how's that sound?" Jason already knew that whatever these two had planned, it was going to be illegal. He also knew that he wasn't really ready to die of starvation yet either. Being a criminal was better than being a corpse.

"Deal."

* * *

Despite knowing the shower was only the precursor to what was already a bad deal, Jason couldn't help but feel relieved to finally get all that grime off of himself. Whatever Tommy needs him to do, it was obviously a big ask if they were going to pamper him first before asking. Then again, his stench might have just been another reason and neither of the other two wanted to deal with his reek, even for a small job.

Either way, Jason had to tear himself away from the shower and dry himself off. He noticed that Andy had lent him a set of clothes, which was a nicer gesture than he ever gave the other boy credit for. He could tell it was Andy's because Tommy was a little shorter than Jason, and Andy a bit taller, since these clothes drowned him in every direction, he knew it was Grande to thank for them. At least they were clean.

Once out, Jason found the other two on Andy's couch, drinking beer and smoking despite being 13 at the oldest.

"There he is! Looking like your ol' self again, Todd!" Tommy called out in cheer. "Come, sit, have a drink!"

"I'd rather a drink of water, actually," Jason put a hand up to decline the beer.

"Come on, now, think you're too good ta drink?" Tommy asked with a sneer.

"I haven't had clean water in almost half a year," Jason explained, "Besides, I don't want to get used ta having something 'round I can't keep 'round, if ya catch me."

"Hey, yeah, I get ya," Tommy nodded, placated by the excuse. He then batted Andy on the arm, "Got get our friend here a cup o' water." Andy frowned for a second before faking a smile once again.

"Sure thing boss." Whether it was because he was being told what to do, or because he didn't want to do favors for Jason, Jason didn't know, but he suddenly didn't feel like thanking Andy for lending him clothes anymore.

"Come sit here while ya wait. Here, a bag of nuts, bet you're starving, ain't ya." Jason hated Tommy's tone, but he couldn't help the speed that he began to rip open and devour the snack. He was desperate, they knew this, whatever it was they wanted, it was a really big ask. Jason could hear Tommy's smirk, he refused to look up and see it. A cup of fresh tap water came into his line of sight and Jason snatched at it and gulped it down.

"Jesus. Slow down, I don't want to have ta get up already just to get ya a refill," Andy grumbled.

"Yeah, besides, we should probably start talking business. Here," Tommy handed Jason a cigarette. Not really knowing any good excuse to decline on the cancer stick, Jason accepted it and let Tommy light it for him. It wasn't like he had to actually smoke it, just hold it in his lips and take drags into his mouth. That should be convincing enough, right?

"So, if you're helping me, you're wanting something big, Tommy. What is it?" Jason asked, puffing the smoke out as soon as he opened his mouth to speak. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette, holding it, before blowing it out both his mouth and nose.

"I got a job from Uncle Mac," Tommy started, "It's a three-man task and if we get caught it's a bit more than just time in juvie. But if we succeed, then we're talking big bucks, man. I can't think of anyone better for my third than the son of good ol' Willis Todd himself. You need the money, you have the know-how, and if you _did_ get caught, your ol' man has been running connections in the pin for the past couple o' years enough, sticking ta him should keep you pretty cozy until you're out 'gain."

"Not that you're our first choice, mind ya," Andy stepped in, causing Tommy to nod.

"Well, he's right, we tried asking Donny first, but he's doing something in the bowery that day, next is you, and then if you're stupid enough ta just decline for really no good reason but suicide, then we'll just move down ta Mark," Tommy added. So whatever they were going to ask him, there was no negotiating a better deal. After he did this for them, he was going to get his cut and not a cent more. In fact, he wouldn't put it past them to short change him pretty heavily due to his desperate situation keeping him from making a stink about it.

"Alright, alright, I get the picture. What do ya want already?" Jason asked, pulling the cig from his lips so it wouldn't fall and burn him.

"Well, Uncle Mac's got a task from Penguin himself. He needs ta lure Batman into a trap the big waddle is having set up. But while he and his guys keep the big bat's attention, we need ta keep that sidekick o' his busy and out of the way," Tommy explained. Jason froze. He knew what this meant. Through the past couple of years, hearing news about the replacement, his wins and his failures, it had been one of the few things to keep Jay going. After seeing some better images of the kid, he couldn't be any older than Jason was, it was easy to keep telling himself that if Nightling could survive being attacked nightly by big baddies, then Jason could survive the streets. Taking this job would put him right on the opposite side of his idol. Turning down this job would lead to starvation, at _best_.

Jason put the cigarette back to his lips and took a slow drag. He felt himself shake. He couldn't say no. He shouldn't say yes. He wanted to go home. He was homeless.

Sighing his defeat, Jason flicked his ashes into the tray on the table.

"What time do ya need me and where?"

* * *

Jason was digging through some trash out of a giant bin. The metal bat stashed there earlier by Andy was right up against the wall, easy to grab once he got the signal. Until then, he was just to keep doing what he had become so practiced at for the past half a year. Dumpster diving. Jason wanted to say he was at war with himself, but that wasn't quite true. He knew the facts as they layed out before him. He knew his options. He knew this was going to play out in one of two ways.

Way one; Nightling is every bit of a badass as the papers make him sound and he'll have them beaten, cuffed, and on their way to jail in no time flat. Jason will see his dad again, get three hots and a cot until he's released, and by then he might be old enough to get a job at some grocery store or something.

Way two; Nightling is having a really bad night and somehow doesn't manage to beat them. Then Jason has to deal with being one of those guys that brought a hero to a mad man to be tortured and killed. He'll get his cut of the reward, try to make it last before he gets desperate again, and then comes crawling back to Tommy to see if there's any more work. Slowly building a reputation among the local criminals and being used as a hired henchman for the rest of his life with no way out but a bullet, because by the time he has enough financial stability and is old enough to work, he'll have learned too much for them to let him live.

Really, Jason's best bet was to get arrested now and be able to blame it on his unlucky youth when a pitying store clerk asks him why he was sent to jail.

Thus Jason had to come up with a new plan. How to make sure that Nightling wins, and Tommy and Andy don't think that Jason threw the fight? This was of course only an actual worry if something was going on with Nightling and the replacement was having a bad night for some reason.

Finally, Jason heard the click of a gun's safety being disengaged behind him.

"Hands in the air!" Andy shouted. Jason froze and raised his hands as he ducked his head.

"Please! I ain't got any money!" Jason cried out his line.

"Don't give me that crap! Turn out your pockets! Now!" Andy screamed. It was too loud, he was being too obvious. Jason scowled.

"Please, I don't have anything!" He repeated. He hated this part of their 'script'. It got redundant and repetitious. But it was Tommy's script, and Tommy was in charge. It was Jason's job to sell it. And the only reason a homeless guy would keep repeating himself as he was supposed to, was if he was already outright panicking.

"You're going ta turn out those pockets and give me everything or else!" Andy cocked the gun for show.

"Oh God! Oh dear God, please! I don't know what you want from me! I don't have anything!" Jason ramped up the energy of his pleads a bit more than was written.

"Calm down! Er, just give me your money now!" Andy was getting thrown off and was falling off-script.

"Or you could put that gun away and stop acting like a big tough guy?" A new voice suggested. Jason glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. It was the replacement! There in his Nightling outfit. He had stylized it a bit differently than the previous Nightling, but there were the silver cape and domino mask, the striking 'N' across his chest, everything. Jason was so in awe by the arrival of his hero that he forgot his next line. Thankfully, it seemed that Andy forgot as well, cause he went straight to shooting at the masked hero.

Nightling ducked down and swooped closer to Andy enough to disarm him and flip him over his back. Andy fell with a groan and a loss of air. Jason quickly grabbed his bat and brought it down on Nightling's back. Nightling hadn't been paying him any mind at that moment and didn't realize until a second too late. After getting hit once Nightling growled out the pain before seeming to decide he didn't like Jason after all. Something that made it really hard for Jason to keep swinging. The fact that he knew Tommy was still watching made it impossible to stop. Jason kept swinging like a mad man at the other teen, tears welling up in his eyes the whole time. Nightling kept dodging him, ducking and weaving, and avoiding the bat.

At first it looked like Nightling was trying to get a good hit in, but there was something up. He wasn't going in for the attack, he was just dodging. Jason's arms finally gave out and he couldn't hold the bat anymore. Not used to the strenuous activity, or even expelling that much energy, his body just started to quit on him. Falling to his hands and knees, Jason couldn't catch his breath. Between the panting and the sobbing, there just wasn't enough oxygen in the world to ease the pain in his chest.

He wasn't paying any attention to what Tommy and Andy did next. As far as the script went, Andy and Jason were to keep Nightling focused on them, while Tommy radioed his uncle and let him know how their bat-sitting was going. Tommy was to then let his uncle know if and when they lost Nightling so that plan 'B' could go into effect. Plan 'B' was really more plan 'A' part 2 as no-one really expected Jason and Andy to keep Nightling there long.

But the plan wasn't going smoothly, and Jason could have sworn that he heard Tommy join the fight at some point. He was too busy hyperventilating to really know. He was going to go to jail, he was going to get stuck in a cement building with his dad and his dad's co-workers. He was going to become just like him someday. Starvation would have been better. What on Earth had he been thinking? He was attacking his hero for Pete's sake! Death would have been better.

"Come on, breathe," Nightling spoke softly from above him, a steadying hand on his back rubbing soothing circles. "Take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds okay? In for three, out for three. Think you can manage it?" Jason tried to comply. It took him a few tries before he could finally control his breathing enough to actually hold the three count as directed.

"Okay, good. Now, can you tell me your name?" Nightling asked gently.

"Wh-why do you want ta know th-th-that?" Jason studdered between sobs.

"I like making new friends," Nightling shrugged.

"I, I tried ta, ta, with the bat, I-"

"I can tell you don't really want to be here, Kid," Nightling pointed out, "I get it. You're in a bad spot, these guys made you an offer you couldn't refuse. You felt you only had two options and figured jail was better than whatever mess you were already in. Am I close?"

Jason sniffed and took another deep breath. "Nail on the he-head actually." He tried to gulp around the lump in his throat, the one that kept making him stutter. "Jason. My name's Jason."

"Well, Jason. Is there anyone taking care of you? Someone you'd like me to call?" Nightling asked.

"No. There's no one. And I'd rather jail than go back ta social services. They keep sending me ta crap places."

"Haha, alright, I promise I won't turn you in; to jail _or_ social services," Nightling swore, "but I want you to promise me something in turn, or deal is off, got it?"

Jason felt his gut twist at the mention of a deal, but a deal with a hero had to be different than a deal with a crook. Still, . . .

"Depends, what do ya want?" Jason narrowed his eyes at Nightling.

"I want you to try going to the rec-center over on Cambridge every now and again. It's free to get in, they have shower stalls in the locker rooms and free soup dinners on the weekends. If you get hurt, try the free clinic over on South. Ask for Leslie Tompkins. She's got a soft spot for runaways. And when you're tired of running, please try giving the system another chance, alright?" Nightling made his deal clear. And to really hammer it home he added, "you're not some 'goon-in-the-making', Jason. A blind person could see you've way too much potential to get stuck in a life like that."

Jason felt his eyes water again. "Alright. Fine! Yeesh! If it'll get ya ta mind your own damn business then fine. I guess I could give your way a shot."

Nightling smiled at him, gave him a pat on the shoulder and started to drag Tommy and Andy's unconscious bodies toward the street corner.

"Oh! Nightling! Ya need ta hurry! Penguin is planning something ta get rid of Batman!" Jason remembered. Nightling froze and his whole body went tense, before he forced himself at ease, quickly cuffed Tommy and Andy to a light-pole and turned to face Jason on last time.

"If _that_ 's what he's been setting up for, then I think I know exactly what to do. Thank you, Jason. Now get out of here before the cops come." With that, Nightling shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop and flew off into the night.

From that night on, the replacement Nightling became Jason's all-time favorite hero, ever.

* * *

 **A/N:** So yet again, I had an idea in my head how this was _supposed_ to go, and it went nowhere near that destination. So, yeah, this was technically Jason and Tim's first-ever encounter. Also kind of explains why Tim can do no wrong in Jason's eyes in this universe.

As a personal update, I'm fixing up a house that I'm getting a chance to buy for a third of its cost if only cause the current owner doesn't want to fix it, I'm also starting to hit the gym a bit more regularly now on top of all my usual daily duties. Weirdly enough, this extra stuff could easily mean more writing as I have a tendency to 'go _at_ go' and have trouble stopping the momentum. My big problem with my writing breaks it they usually happen when my life plateaus and I end up getting home from work just laying on my bed wanting to do nothing but question my existence.

So this means I will be trying extra hard to get to some _ACTUAL_ plot-relevant chapters soon. And yes, I know I've said this story doesn't have a plot, but it _kinda_ does. You'll see what I mean once we really get cookin'.

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Looks like it's up hill from here, Jay!'. I'll accept it.)


	19. Bruce Meet Jason

**A/N:** SHOUT OUT TO **Echoes 01** for their awesome comment on the last chapter! They were awesome enough to give me some tips for the Boston accent that I asked for. Pretty much, I forgot that Boston is known for dropping their 'r's. I'll try to experiment with that in the future, but there is a _lot_ of Jason's crime alley accent in this chapter, and while I spent the past week trying to change it over to the 'r' thing instead of the 'a' thing I have going on, it was taking too long, and it was becoming quickly illegible.

So I'm leaving it as was for now, but I will be changing how I write that particular quirk in later on chapters. After this, Jason doesn't get opportunities to relax his speech as often, so anything I come up with will more than likely be difficult to notice unless you're looking for it.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason - 14

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Bruce Meet Jason

Jason found his rhythm on the streets of Gotham. He would spend a good portion of his time in the library devouring adventures that took him away from reality, then when he got hungry, he'd head out and get some groceries with the money he stole from guys he knew where known hench-men. He had gotten pretty good at sleight of hand and pocket-picking, but his own morals wouldn't let him pick from people just trying to live day-to-day. So why not steal money that was stolen to begin with? Like Robin Hood!

On weekends, he'd go to the rec-center, help out with the dinner rush, volunteer to spoon soup into bowls, get his halfway through, then help wash dishes. Then he'd go take his weekly shower and then run his clothes with a couple of other kids in the laundry room in the basement. He even made some real friends among them, Juan Genero and Sammy Lawrance being the first. Their parents were poor so they were stuck taking weekly showers and waiting for their clothes with Jason. With their mother's permissions, Jason was allowed to do a bit of a clothes swap with them every now and then, so he didn't have to wear the same clothes for the past couple of years, this turned out to be pretty handy as he had shot up in that time and, thankfully, Juan seemed to keep up with him in size.

Jason had also taken to helping out where he could with the local clinic. Leslie Tompkins was a really nice older lady that always seemed to appreciate Jason coming by and offering to sweep floors, take out trash, and other menial tasks. When she asked why he would willingly do their clean up work, he'd reply that he doesn't have any other way to pay for treatment and that he didn't want to be in her debt if he ever needed her help. She just laughed and ruffled up his hair and let him get back to work.

He even found a decent building that had been abandoned by its owners that the city just boarded up and forgot about. Jason knew that he had to be careful squatting there, of course. Word had gone around of a large group of kids that got caught in the abandoned apartment complex down the street. All twelve of them were hauled off by social services and the apartment complex had been bulldozed to keep any future squatters out. So Jason kept his new 'address' a secret, climbing in from the fire escape, which didn't go all the way down to the ground and required a bit of parkour in order to get into.

Jason had a routine, and he figured that so long as he kept his head down, didn't press his luck, didn't get involved in any drama, he might be able to make it last for another couple of years, then he'd be old enough to get a part-time job and make honest money for the first time in his life. For the first time in a long time, things were finally falling into place.

Then Jason started to notice a shift in the pattern.

One of the first things Jay would do in the library would be to check the morning paper for any 'Bat-sighting's. 'Shadowbat' had begun to take to the scene, finally answering Jason's question at where the previous Nightling had gone. Then he'd check on his friend. Well, Nightling said they were friends that night, but he was also trying to help Jason turn his life around. Either way, it was fun calling Nightling his friend and know that Nighlting started it, even if the other kid forgot already. But it was officially five months in, and still no word about him. There were plenty of Shadowbat sightings, more than there ever had been before, even when he _was_ Nightling. But no replacement Nightling.

Frustrated, Jason went back to see when the last time Nightling _had_ been mentioned. It wasn't really uncommon for someone to not show up for a while; injury, private life, somewhere else in the country, or just simply they managed to keep their name out of the paper despite having been apart of something. But Jason was seeing that Nightling had been missing from the news for six months. _Six months_.

His mind trying to go over every possibility, he came up with too many to list. Looking for the last article Nightling had been a part of, Jason couldn't decern anything that could have led to Nightling's disappearance. It didn't help that it was absolutely none of his business to begin with. It wasn't like Jason could go right up to Batman and ask, _'hey, Nightling said he was my friend that one time he was trying to calm me down from an_ _existential crisis. Do you think you could tell me if he's alright? I'm very worried Mister.'_ Yeah, that'll go over well.

After putting all the articles back where he found them and then leaving the library, Jason made his way to his safe house at the other side of Crime Alley away from the Browery. He was watching his feet the whole time, a good safety measure to make sure he didn't accidentally see something he shouldn't, so it was only cause he walked right by it that he noticed that O' Bert, the idiot mechanic, left his garage wide open. Bert was at a work table to the side, blackout drunk and passed out, bottle of black spiced rum just to the side of his head. Jason rolled his eyes. If Bert was at least a little nicer, Jason might have felt a need to help the guy out and close up his shop for him. As it was, Jason just muttered 'karma' and kept walking.

He finally got to his alleyway that he used to sneak into his safe house, but saw some idiot parked their car right in the way. A really nice, shiny, black car. The tires looked like all-terrain tread, the head-lights were buffed out to perfect clarity, the car even had spoilers that were custom-designed to raise up in a scalloped pattern, Jason could go on. Whoever was an idiot enough to park this car out _deep_ into crime alley where no-one could see it was either; A) a complete moron who deserved to get his tires jacked, or B) an overconfident crime boss capable of murder that deserved to get his tires jacked.

A closer look at the tires themselves and Jason practically started to drool at the realization of how much he could get for each, even if he did only sell them for base value and got ripped off. That was at least three months of meals _each!_

Taking precaution, Jason pawed up the vehicle to try and set off any alarms it might already have, better to set them off now when he could claim he was just getting a closer looked than when he had the actual tools with him and was in the middle of the dirty deed. When no alarms went off, Jason just balked for a minute. Who on Earth was _this_ dumb? Or maybe, he thought with a smirk, he should be asking who on Earth was this lucky?

Running back to O'Bert's, Jason quickly went to work grabbing the things he'd need. He really only needed two specific tools, really; a tire iron and a cinder-block. Once he had his items in hand, and yet again stood before his prize, Jason got to work. The entire time as he unscrewed the bolts, Jason kept looking over his shoulder, half expecting Black Mask or Penguin to come up to shoot him for what he was doing to their car. Soon the tire was off, a cinder-block in its place, and no sign of the owner.

Jason rolled the tire down back to O'Bert's and hide the tire behind Bert's used tire pile. Bert was such a drunkard that he'd never notice it there, and he wouldn't really notice it when Jason came back for it in the morning. Jason came back to the car to see that the car was still there, and there was still nobody there. Rise and repeat two more times.

Now the trouble that Jason ran into here, was that he stopped worrying about the trouble he was getting himself into. So when he finally got to the last tire, had all the bolts halfway removed, and was about to start taking them all off in order to remove the tire, he couldn't stop himself from shooting to his feet when he heard a man's voice in disbelief give an exasperated "I don't believe it."

Once to his feet, tire-iron in hand, eyes wide, Jason's heart stopped to see the Batman. He glanced at the car again to see all the minor details that _should_ have tipped him off. Really, who in their right mind gets scalloped spoilers if they aren't going for a theme? He then also moved his eyes to the tire-iron in his own hand, realizing the implication of the tool in his hand, Jason unwrapped his fingers from around the metal and let it clamor to the ground. Without moving another muscle, even to lower his arm, Jason's eyes went back to Batman. Batman took a deep breath before walking around the car in order to properly loom over Jason.

"Put them back, now," he growled in a deep, irritated voice. Jason was frozen to the spot for a moment before he slowly nodded and took a step back. Then he realized his golden opportunity.

Planting his feet and steeling himself over, Jason took a deep breath and cleared his throat before forcing himself to glare up at Batman. "On one condition!"

"Your condition is that you will put them back or I will be taking you to the juvenile detention facility by rooftop," Batman's tone didn't let up. Jason's knees almost gave out, but he needed to ask, and he would _never_ have another chance. He just kept repeating in his head ' _what would Nightling do? What would Nightling do?_ '.

"Fine, take me to juvie, but if you want your tires back, I want to know what happened to my friend!" Jason shouted back. And then he felt like slapping a hand to his mouth cause he most definitely did _not_ mean to call Nightling out as his friend to the Batman!

"Who?" Batman turned his head just slightly as he asked. Jason could have sworn that he saw the lines of the mask move with his confusion. Jason gulped and then began to dig himself a deeper hole.

"N-nightling. We met a while back, he, well, he helped me with some personal stuff, and then he said we was friends, ya see? But now he's been missing for half a year and I'm worried sick," Jason explained.

"And what was this 'personal stuff' that he helped you with?" That tone was definitely suspicious. Jason never let his gaze leave Batman's but his mind was racing. Would telling Batman the whole story be a smart thing? If he told him anything then it would only lead to the fact that Jason had attacked Nightling with a bat the night they met. But it wasn't like Jason _wanted_ to, even Nightling could see that! Would Batman?

One last scrutinizing glance at Bats, and Jason knew the answer would be a strict 'no'.

"That stuffs personal. Between him and me only," Jason grumbled and crossed his arms.

"I didn't realize he had become so chummy with the local street urchin population." Batman crossed his arms and bared down back at him. He was making it very clear what situation this was for Jason. There was no winning. He puts the tires on, Batman is going to take him straight to juvie. He tries to make a run for it, Batman will throw him over his shoulder and jump him over deadly heights between rooftops, all the way to juvie. He stands his ground on this, and he might be able to at least worm _something_ out of Batman before he gets raced straight on to juvie.

Fun fact; when all your options are equally bleak, becoming stupidly brave is usually the only fitting response.

"Maybe you didn't know Nightling as well as you'd like ta think!" Jason shouted, having analyzed the situation and deciding to let himself get properly ticked off at Batman's insult. What Jason wasn't expecting was Batman to actually startle back a step. Not really pausing long enough to really think over what he was saying, Jason kept going. "Nightling was the only person there for me when I was at my lowest. I'm not just talking some simple case of the sad-sack here, I had just lost my parents, I didn't have any place to sleep but the gutter, the only people who would even _look_ at me wanted me to commit crimes with them in favor of food _because they knew I was starving!_ Nightling was my _only_ friend. _Now, where is he?_ "

Batman just stared down at him, almost looking slack-jawed even, and Jason could feel the hot tears rolling down his cheeks as his heart pounded so hard in his chest it hurt. He was also breathing pretty hard, having used most of his breath to scream at Batman. Jason was now full-on _glaring_ at Bats, demanding with everything he had and was for the man to answer his question.

Batman came back to himself pretty quickly. He straightened his stance and took a breath before looking back to Jason with a softer look.

"New deal," he began. His tone was also a bit more gentle, causing Jason to blink a couple of times in befuddlement. "Put the tires back on the car, and I'll take you to go see him."

* * *

Jason woke up in a moving car. He was strapped in the passenger seat and for a split second, he panicked. Then everything came back to him. Batman made his 'new deal', Jason led him to where he hid the tires, and then Bats even helped him roll them back to the car where Jason got to work putting them back. He always thought himself a bit of a mechanic, until the few times that Batman had to tell him he was doing something wrong. He never knew that when putting on or taking off a tire that the bolts had to be taken off in a star-shaped order, though he was well aware that all the bolts had to be put on or loosened before they could be tightened or removed.

After the last tire had been secured into place, Jason remembered smelling something weird before everything just kinda, went black. Now that he was waking up in the Batmobile, driving down what looked to be a high tech tunnel with large light panels at the top, Jason glared over to Batman realizing the hero had _knocked him out._

"I'm awake now," he muttered before crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

"That is good to know," Batman replied with a tone of indifference.

"So I take it ya knocked me out so that I wouldn't know where your 'secret base' is?" Jason asked, staring out the window as if there was anything of interest out there.

"You would be correct."

"And ya didn't think to give a guy a _warning_?" Jason turned back to Batman to see the man's face was still as a statue. Huffing out a large sigh, Jason made a show of falling back and sinking into his seat. When they finally came to a stop, Jason's eyes almost bugged out of his head. They were in an actual cave, with stalactites, and stalagmites, and live bats, and a real waterfall! But on top of all that, the cave was absolutely _filled_ with technology. Jason's eyes wandered all around the cave until it landed on Batman, who apparently left the car already, waking up and talking to some guy wearing an outfit that made him look like a butler or something.

Jason got out of the car and was running up to join them as soon as he realized that he hadn't been locked in. The man Batman had been talking to raised a brow.

"So, this would be Master Nightling's friend then?" The man asked.

"I'm taking him up the West route to go," Batman took an ominous pause here for a sigh, "pay Nightling a visit."

"Very good, Sir, I shall see that your earlier request is fulfilled as you do," the man nodded.

"Wait, so, you're an _actual_ butler? You're not just dressed up for some undercover thing?" Jason asked, furrowing his brow.

The man raised his brow again before giving a kind smile and a small bow, "Alfred Pennyworth, at your service, young man. I am indeed a butler, though I try to spend as much of my time assisting the Batman in any way I can between taking care of my own employer. Now then, I don't believe you'll want to keep young Master Nightling waiting any longer. I'll see that the preparations are prepared for your return."

With that, Alfred bowed out and walked away. Before Jason could see where he was going, Batman already had a hand to his shoulder, steering him to a side door. Realizing he was finally going to meet his friend for the first time since that night two years ago, Jason let himself be manhandled. On the other side of the door, a set of stairs led upwards toward three different doors, each one with a digital lock as well as a vault-like mechanism that latched the doors in place. Bats took Jason toward the left one, and more stairs lead beyond the other side of it.

"Geeze, ya don't skip leg day _ever_ 'round this place, _do_ ya?" Jason gawked at what had to be a _whole mile_ of stairs, . . . or, you know, more than twenty steps.

"It is a good motivator to stay fit," Batman replied off-handedly. Jason gave him a look over his shoulder, only to get a blank stare back.

"Yeah-yeah, yuck it up, Old Man, ya better watch it or I'll be running circles 'round ya in another twenty years," Jason snarked back.

"If it'll take you that long then you might as well save yourself the trouble, Shadowbat could very well be the new Batman by then." Jason froze at that. He then turned back to give Bats a hard look, this time the face he met was visibly dour and the light-hearted mood had vanished.

"Ya can't be _saying_ stuff like that," Jason chastised him. "You'll always be thinking about the end too much to appreciate the time it took ta get there if ya don't lighten up from time ta time."

"I never said I would be dead," Jason could hear the raised eye brown and he pouted.

"Well, I guess ya could've been talking 'bout retirement or something, but it sounded like ya were making a dumb joke 'bout dying," Jason grumbled and continued on his way up.

It was silent for a good part of the way before the silence was broken by Bats. "How long ago has it been since your parents?"

Jason could hear by his tone that Batman wasn't going to press the issue, but he had a reason for asking. And Jason had a determination to not let the past drag him down.

"It's been 'bout four years now. Dad still has 'nother eleven years on his sentence, not even sure where they put mom. Suppose they might have just dumped her in Pauper's field or a mass grave or something. Don't really know what they do with bodies that go unclaimed," Jason shrugged as he kept walking. It took him reaching the top before he realized that Batman had frozen in place. "Hey, unless ya wanna tell me the code, I can't open it myself."

Batman frowned, made the last few steps, and dialed in a quick nine-digit combination. The door swung open to a gate that Batman unlatched from the inside. The two then walked out to what was obviously a cemetery, and Jason was confused. He wondered if maybe Batman had Nightling cleaning gravestones as a chore or a punishment or something, but the sinking feeling in his chest warned him to be ready. When Batman stopped in front of a headstone, Jason gulped and looked at whose it was.

"So, uh, who was 'Timothy Drake-Wayne'?" Jason asked, "Did, uh, he have something ta do with Nightling?" Jason was hoping the answer would be a bit more convoluted than it looked. But Batman hadn't moved, he wasn't saying anything, and from what Jason could tell, he wasn't looking away from the stone. "Oh."

Jason looked back to 'Timothy' and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The heaviness in his gut got worse and he felt his throat close up a little. "How'd he, um, is it okay if I ask how-"

"No." Jason snapped his jaw closed at that. Batman took another breath before he explained. "I'm sorry, but the details are confidential, I've already shown you more than anyone should see."

"Then why let me see it?" Jason was a bit hesitant to ask.

There was a long silence that followed, Jason was almost convinced that he was going to be ignored, but then Batman spoke.

"Nightling, Tim, had many allies during his days. Superboy, Wondergirl, Kid Flash, but when he was in Gotham he was alone. Other than Batgirl, I didn't believe he had a single friend, . . . And then less than a week after his death, a boy from the streets is stealing my tires for ransom, and his ask is to know where his friend had gone." Jason felt a stupid smirk start to stretch his face as his ears began to burn a slight bit. Batman even seemed to have a hint of a smile, or like a shadow of one, or the shadow of wanting one, . . . you know what, Jason just got the feeling that Batman was smirking back, okay? Then Bats continued, "I suppose, it's my way of thanking you, for reminding me that whether Tim made time for them or not, he had plenty of friends in Gotham." Batman put a hand on Jason's shoulder before he began to move away. "I'll give you two a bit of privacy. I imagine you have a lot of catching up to do."

Jason watched Bats walk away to another gravestone, one with two names on it so probably a couple or something, and then he brought his gaze back to Tim.

"Heya, um, guess ya weren't really expecting ta see, or um, hear from me 'gain, I guess," Jason shifted from foot to foot awkwardly before trying again. "Look, I've never done this before. This talking ta someone who can't hear ya thing, it's too much like praying ta me. It's just, I don't know, it's weird. Authors in books, they make it sound so, so, well, I guess what I'm saying is, is I'm sorry if ya _are_ hearing this and it's just making ya cringe that I don't know what I'm doing." Jason took another breath and stood still for a moment as he got his thoughts together.

"Ya know, I never really did get a chance ta thank ya for your advice. It really worked. I hadn't had ta go crawling back ta Tommy or Andy since then. I mean, they _tried_ getting in touch after they got released from juvie, honestly woulda thought we'da gone ta proper jail for what we was trying ta pull, then 'gain, you're kinda a big ol' softy, ain't ya, Nights?" Jason huffed a laugh and then decided to just sit down cross-legged at the foot of the grave. "Anyways, Tommy and Andy tried ta recruit me on some 'revenge plan' they was going ta do ta ya. They were saying that I owed them ta do it, ya know, cause I "ran 'way" on them. Idiots. I told them that I've decided ta starve than ever get mixed up with them 'gain. They got all p***y and stomped off. All bark and no bite, them. Well, I really don't have anything else for ya. I never did 'get tired of running'. I can't go back into the system, I just, I can't. But I promise ta keep my nose clean, well, for the most part, and then when I'm old enough, I'll get a proper job. No more theft, no more running, no more streets." Jason got back on his feet and dusted himself off. "I guess this is 'good-bye' then, Nightling, so, uh, 'bye."

Jason took a single step away from the stone before Batman was already next to him. The hero led Jason back to the gate and down the stairs to the Batcave, where a card table and a chair had been set up with a table cloth and a decent sized dinner. Jason paused and balked at the roast beef dinner. He looked up at Batman who nodded down at him. Jason took that as permission enough and ran over to the table and had barely put his butt in his seat before shoving one of the small baked potato wedges in his mouth.

"Jason, I'm aware that it wouldn't be anything out of the norm for you, however, I'm not in the practice of dropping children off in the middle of Crime Alley in the dead of night. I have asked Alfred to set up the medic bay as a temporary bedroom. It's not exactly a five-star hotel, but it's a warm bed for the night." Batman had moved to the other side of the table from where Jason sat, looking expectant of him, either waiting for Jason to give his approval of the idea or rebel. Jason was torn. Everything he had ever learned on the streets taught him that _nothing_ came for free. On the other hand, who on Earth in their right mind would pass up a chance to stay a night in _the Batcave_?

Jason narrowed his eyes at Batman as if he was still suspicious of the hero's offer, "I suppose when ya put it that way,... You're not just going to turn me in at Juvie first light, are ya?"

"No, Jason, I'm not going to press charges."

"And you're not just going ta drop me off with social services, right?"

"It goes without saying that any responsible adult _should_ do exactly that, however, considering I know a few of the people you've been more or less watched over by while 'on your own', I will make the _one_ and _only_ exception for your case."

Jason took this answer and nodded along. Batman was willing to let Jason just live his life. Jason felt no reason to distrust Batman, if only because even a thin, lumpy hospital bed sounded leagues better than the flattened cardboard box pile he'd been getting shut-eye on for the past couple of years.

"Okay, fine. I'll stay the night," Jason agreed.

Of course, one night became a week, and one week became a full month. Eventually, all pretense went out the door between all three of them (Alfred included) trying to find excuses for Jason to not leave. Identities were revealed, Jason was made Bruce's legal ward, the bedroom right next to Tim's was refurbished and put to use, and Jason was enrolled into a public school.

A month became a year, and a year became a new life.

* * *

 **A/N:** I might do a 'Bruce's perspective' on this chapter someday, but the reason I didn't was because, unlike the others, it actually worked out better to tell it from Jay's POV. Probably because Jason's a bit more melodramatic and therefore it makes it more fun to write. Also, I liked getting to tell the car-jacking scene from his perspective for once, ya know? I know Bruce might seem a little OOC in this but I actually have very good reasons, and not just 'because I wanted it to work that way' reasons.

 **First** off, it's only been a week or two since 'Tim OD'ed in Arkham', so Bruce is still pretty shaken up from that. **Second** , Tim in the comics might have had more friends in Gotham, but don't forget it was usually because Dick would push him to be a bit more social or his own dad and step-mom would push him to be a bit more normal. (even before they knew just how _abnormal_ he really was.) Therefore in this, without someone NOT Bruce or Dami around to encourage him (Steph is the same age as him and doesn't have that kind of wisdom and experience built up yet) Tim just kinda gave up on 'normal'. So Jason showing up claiming to be his friend when Bruce is in the middle of realizing just how badly he messed up with Tim, it's a bit of a reprieve from his own guilt. **Third** , even comic book Jason, when he was young, had a way of making comic book Bruce lighten up. I really wanted that to stay true in this. I think one of the reasons Jason's death hit Bats so hard in 'Death in the Family' was because Jason was Bruce's sense of humor personified. So this time, Jay gets to live and help Bruce live a little too.

This will be the last chapter for a little while. I actually have one more chapter I want to tag onto Jason's arch, but I haven't had an opportunity to write. The house I'm buying is in the middle of having walls patched up and, while I thought it was going to be a few days here and there, my step-dad is even worse about being 'a- _go_ at _go_ ' than I am. So, I'm going to try to work on the next chapter and get it out to you guys as soon as I can, I'm going to try for in a week. After that, I will be holding onto chapters so that when things have finally started to settle down around here, I can start posting regularly even if I'm not writing regularly. I'm not really saying these things to try and get your hopes up or anything, but that's what's going on with me and I fell I ought to let you know.

R&R if you liked. (Need a default response? Just say 'Hey, I recognize that scene with the car!'. I'll take it.)


	20. Little Brother

**A/N:** Rant to be read about this chapter at the end. I got this written in one setting, in pen and paper, while waiting for my computer to reboot. Turns out, I write VERY different on paper than I do digital. I think it might be because the cramps in my hand make me less picky about my phrasing and force me forward while typing can allow me to rewrite the same sentence over and over with little to no consequence beyond wasted time. So if it seems a little rushed, that's why.

My Robin Reversal AU:

Jason- 14 Tim- 17

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Little Brother

Jason, Kori, and Roy were sitting in Jason's 'room' in the Titan's Tower. There had been quite a deal of debate among the older titans on whether Jason _should_ get the room or not. The first generation titans all agreed with Shadowbat that, since Jason was the new Nightling, and the room had been Damian's to begin with, and there was no-one else to use the room, Jason should be moved in. The second generation titans had issues with this plan. These issues included the fact that Jason wasn't even a titan yet, that he hadn't even been Batman's sidekick a week, that he hardly got along with any of the other heroes, and most importantly, _that_ was _Tim's_ room.

Hardly any, if any at all, of the second gen titans were finished mourning the death of their friend. It didn't help that the only four people in the while world who knew what happened, were absolutely refusing to share the story and give Tim's friends the closure they deeply desired. On top of that, despite Time having been missing for half a year, and officially dead for two months, the hero community had only recently been informed of Tim's death for the past two weeks.

In short, half the Titans didn't care for Jason, and the other half openly despised him. What was worse, most of the younger heroes that were Jason's age were following by example. Therefore, Jason had been completely ostracized by the entirety of the Titans before he even had a chance to join. The only two friends he had were the newest Speedy; Roy Harper, and the new alien girl that had just gained asylum on Earth, Starfire; Koriand'r.

Roy was a ranger's son who grew up in an Indian reservation under the care of a medicine chief after his dad passed away. With pale skin and bright red hair, Roy had been an outcast his whole life. It didn't help Roy's life get any easier when he was adopted by Oliver Queen. Queen and his own biological son, Conner Hawke, were having their own form of troubles. In a weird reverse to the few stories Jason was told about Damian's reception to Tim, it was Conner who welcomed Roy to the Arrow family, not Oliver, but Oliver was the one to, rather begrudgingly, take "care" of him. This put Roy in an even tougher spot than Jason. At least Jason had love and support waiting for him back home at Wayne Manor. So, of course the two outcasts gravitated toward each other and became fast friends on site.

As for Kori, all the heroes had been welcoming to her from the start. They tried to help her settle in, find her place, be her new family, but her own experience back on her home planet soured the affection given to her. She avoided the mass groups of happy-go-lucky heroes, unsure how to fit in. That was until Jason showed up. Watching everyone only ever present their backs to him from the very start reminded her too much of how she was made to feel at home. She became his friend the very moment an opportunity presented itself. Suddenly, with everyone feeling she was picking sides in an unspoken battle, the other heroes became a great deal less kind to her as well.

So, here they sat, in Jason's new room, hiding from the other 'heroes', playing a game of Uno and griping about getting stuck at 'day-care' by their mentors. (Not so much in Kori's place, but she was willing to listen all the same.) That's when the intruder alarms suddenly went off.

Frantic, the trio ran out of the room and straight into Superboy, who immediately set on telling them to go back to their rooms and stay out of the way. As soon as the jerk was down the hall and out of sight, the three shared a look before they began to run after him. Just as they got to the floor where the intruder was, the three stopped short to see a young man dressed in the previous Nightling's costume. First thought that any of them had was that this was an impostor, but the way he handled the boa staff in his hands proved him to be exactly what the outfit claimed him to be

Superboy, having been Tim's best friend during the second Nightling's run, stood slack-jawed for a moment until the sight of the many fallen titans at Tim's feet set him in motion. He launched forward, though through the entire fight Superboy tried to talk sense into his friend, to welcome him home, to make it clear that Tim will _always_ be _their_ Nightling. No one would _ever_ take Tim's place on the team, no one _could_. As Superboy spoke, Jason set his jaw and stared at the ground. He understood that Superboy was trying to calm his suddenly 'Not-Dead' friend down, but he also knew there was truth to the words, and that hurt.

" _Shut-Up_!"

Jason's eyes shot up at the sound of Tim's snarl. A flash of green, and suddenly Superboy was on the ground. Not letting up, Tim dropped the kryptonite next to the super before he round-house kicked him in the head knocking Superboy out completely. Tossing the unconscious hero to the side, Tim pointed a finger at Jay.

"You!" Before Tim could take a single step forward, Roy and Kori were shielding him.

"You want _our_ Nightling, you will have to go through us to get to him!" Kori growled, her eyes and hands glowing green as she took a battle ready stance.

"And we won't be going easy on you, Mister, cause this here is the _real_ Nightling, and we'll protect him with our lives!" Roy added, cocking back the arrow on his bow.

"Hey! Since when did _I_ need protecting?" Jason argued.

"Do you want our help or don't you?" Roy argued back.

"Boys!" Kori rolled her eyes and started her attack, throwing star-bolts at Tim left and right, not once letting up on her assault. Roy followed up with his arrows while Jay threw exploding bat-a-rangs. No matter where they hit or how much they sent, Tim ducked and weaved around all of it. Kori and Roy, in both efforts to keep the fight long rang as well as to keep the previous Nightling from getting his hands on the current one, started to edge back toward the door they came. Tim was faster, snatching a throwing knife from Ravenger's unconscious body, and chucking it at Roy. The knife 'missed' Roy, though it sliced right through his bow string, rendering the weapon useless. Jason himself had just ran out of bat-a-rangs and even Kori realized how fruitless a long distance fight had just become.

With another glance to each other, the three lunged for Tim all at once, hoping to take him out by sheer force of numbers. Between Kori's super strength, and Roy and Jason's combat training, it looked for a second that they had him. But then Tim pulled out tear-gas from his belt and threw it to the ground. Kori was on the ground in an instant, clutching at her eyes and trying to clear her throat. A few well placed martial arts moves, and Tim managed to rip Roy's domino mask off his face, exposing the sensitive flesh of his eyes to the chemicals in the air. With them vulnerable, Tim got rid of them in a similar fashion as he did with Superboy. Then he turned back to Jason.

"You." Tim took a step forward, Jason took a step back. When the process repeated once more, Jason's back hit the wall behind him.

"Nightling, please, I wasn't trying ta take you'ha place!" Jason cried out, his accent slipping in his panic. "Don't make me fight ya! It won't end the same as last time!" Unsure how to make good on his threat, Jason simply put his dukes up.

"So, you think you're worthy of being Nightling? That you have what it takes?" Tim, now close enough, asked this with a quick, yet painfully hard, jab of his boa-staff, straight into Jason's gut. Jason fell to his knees, clutching at the soft part of his torso before a gloved hand snatched him by his collar and threw him to the side. The impact of smashing his nose to the floor miraculously didn't break it, but he could feel blood begin to run from his nostril, making breathing even harder.

"You think you could manage to _survive_ out there? When backup fails you? When Batman isn't around to 'save the day'? When you're out numbered and out matched in every way?" Tim stomped over and picked Jason back up, again from his collar, as if to throw him once more. "Are you sure you're _really_ ready to be Nightling?"

Jason looked up into the lensed eyes of his hero, the guy he owed his life to and every good thing in it, and he couldn't see anything. The previous Nightling was dead. Jason's hero was gone. This guy was something else. This something else wasn't going to run Jason off from living up to his predecessor.

"Yes."

Jason expected that to be the 'wrong' answer. For Tim to kill him, or beat him, or _something_. He wasn't expecting to be pulled into a hug. He wasn't expecting Tim to collapse to his knees as he embraced him. And while Tim held him tight, tucking his own head into Jason's shoulder, he heard the last thing he ever thought Tim would say.

"Thank you," Tim muttered into Jason's uniform. "Thank you, Jason, for not letting Nightling die."

Jason didn't get a chance to respond. As soon as he brought his arms up to hug Tim back, he was shoved into the wall so hard, his vision went black.

* * *

When Jason woke up next, he was in his bed at the tower, Wondergirl sat by his bed side, cleaning his wounds.

"You're awake," she muttered as his eyes fluttered open.

"You've noticed," he muttered back. There was an awkward silence as she finished cleaning him up.

"I came in to nearly every one down. Cyborg checked the security cameras to see what happened while back up came to help everyone. Batman explained that Ra's Al Ghul had somehow brought Tim back. He's still looking into it." Jason nodded along as well as his pounding head would allow. "We owe you an apology, Jason. We didn't give you a fair chance. Even Tim seems to have accepted you as the new Nightling. We should have, from the start."

Jason had to blink a bit at that before he understood. Cyborg checked the cameras. Even with no sound, there would be no missing how Tim held him before he knocked him out.

"Can I get a recording of you saying that for future evidence? I want proof this isn't some king of fever dream," Jason wise-cracked.

"Oh-hush," Wondergirl laughed before she stood, and with a smile she added, "I guess a lot of things are going to change around here now. Get some rest. Bats should be by soon to pick you up."

"And Roy and Kori?" Jason asked.

"They're fine. Last I saw them they were in the med-bay getting their eyes flushed out." With that, Wondergirl left the room.

Jason laid there for a moment before a thought came to him; Tim had waited until Supderboy had said those hurtful things about Jay before he pulled out his kryptonite. Kori and Roy were barely hurt at all. Did Tim fight his way in, just so he could make a show of accepting Jason? The thought caused Jason's face to split into a wide grin.

No matter what name he went by in the future, nor whatever 'something else' he had become, Tim Drake-Wayne, the second Nightling of Gotham, would forever be Jason's favorite hero.

* * *

 **A/N:** I typed out my rant about how I will never do the other supers again and why, but then I went ahead and started on a chapter that showcased even more of them. So I deleted it... Also, I have decided on a couple of 'Mainstays' for this series. Pretty much expect to see the 'best friends' from other super families a bit more after I get back from hiatus.

Which reminds me to give you this reminder, this is the last chapter for a while. In fact, I'm going to call it for an official Hiatus. End of Hiatus will be, . . . um, . . . Well, I'll be getting my house built for the next couple of months, I have my sister coming in from Germany to stay with me in November and no idea how long she and her family will be staying (big house so I'm not worried about that), Let's say February? Yeah, **February 2nd!** That should work! See ya guys then!

((Side note, I've been excited to write this chapter since I first thought up this Fic. What did you think? Worth the wait? Let me know!))

R&R if you liked. (need a default response? just say: 'Other supers, Yay!'. I'll accept it.)


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